Tip of My Iceberg

Walking through stores in this pre-holiday fiasco of financial incentives that encourage mindless spending, I’m intrigued how merchandising drives our purchases.

I was with Sydney, wandering through the toy section of a store, pushing Ryken in his stroller, his head rotating like an owl as he looked at the stuff and clutter around him.

We came upon the new Star Wars paraphernalia.

Who knew there were so many things Star Wars?

There was a giant storm trooper who threatened battle as you heard sounds of weapons being fired. New light sabers that looked way better than the ones that came out last century.

And more helmets and head gear that could transform small children into terrifying warriors.

So we tried them all on Ryken.

It wasn’t just Star Wars’ gear. The Avengers had their share of weapons and masks as well.

A confluence of super warrior dudes.

Ryken was stylin’. The fact that he let us do this says something about his super patience.

We’ve got a fascination with being super something. Better than we are. Strength. Speed. Brilliance. Super powers that could make us bigger than life. Better in this life.

Sometimes the draw is to be super bad. Darth Vader appeals because he’s powerful.

He did things his way. For awhile.

Heroes and villains.

Wouldn’t it be amazing if all we had to do to be all that we want to be was to put on a helmet, throw on a cape or pick up a shield?

Life would be so–super.

But not real.

The older I get, the more I become aware of my shortcomings. I can make heroic gestures–help someone in need, be generous, stand up for someone who’s oppressed–but that’s not an every day thing.

I talk a lot. And my words aren’t always thoughtful and kind. I’ve got a lot of opinions. Those sometimes sound critical and judgmental. I love to help people. But it often comes across as me trying to fix them.

At times I can be the villain because I feel wronged. I can hurt back when I’ve been hurt. Be unforgiving even though I’ve been forgiven.

In a world searching for a hero, it won’t be the next philanthropic zillionaire or tech wizard. It won’t be a gracious sports star who supports non-profits generously.

It’s God.

He’s truly bigger, greater, grander than we can conceive. Our only possible hero because He’s good and just. All the time.

All-powerful, all-knowing, ever-present, fully engaged with us. By choice.

Because He’s chosen to love us.

And save us. Through Jesus.

“For I am not ashamed of this Good News about Christ. It is the power of God at work, saving EVERYONE who believes…”   Romans 1:16

We will have our heroes. And villains. Life is a mix of good and bad.

But only One can truly save us from a fate that is death itself.

Funny thing is this holiday season–when we celebrate His birth–folks are looking to remove His merchandising from the marketplace.

But His force? It’ll always be here.