**I'm currently reading the book Out Live Your Life by Max Lucado and I wanted to share this with you. I'm including a video too cause that's what came to mind as I read this. Made me think...**
May I show you my new clamshell? It just arrived. My old one was thinning out. You know how worn out they can get. Sheer as the wall of a cheap motel. Mine was so chipped I could see right through it. And noise? It couldn't block the sound of a baby's whimper.
So I bought this new model. Special-ordered. Tailor-made. Top-of-the-line. I can stand up in it. Sit down in it. Sleep in the thing if I want to. Go ahead, take a look inside. See the flip-down ledge on the left? Cup holder! Check out the headphones. As if the shell's insulation wasn't enough, I can turn up the music and turn out the world. All I do is step in, grab the handle on the interior of teh upper shell, and pull it closed.
Better than body armor, thick as an army tank. Think of it as a bunker for the soul. In here the world has no hunger or orphans. And poverty? This shell comes factory coated with a sadness screen. Racism? Injustice? They bounce off my shell like rain off a turtle's back.
Let me tell you how good this baby is. I went to the convenience store this morning for coffee and a paper. I was standing in the check-out line, minding my own business, when I noticed the fellow in front of me was paying with food stamps. He wore a baseball cap, baggy khakis, and flip-flops and had three kids at his knees. Close enough to detect his thick accent, I pegged him as an immigrant. I can typically stir up a good smirk and pigeonhole these people as fast as you can say, "Burden on society." But this family started getting to me. The little girls were strawberry sweet, with their skin the color of milk chocolate and their almond-shaped eyes. One of them smiled in my direction. Before I knew it, I smiled back.
About that time the cashier shook her head and returned the food stamps. Apparently their value wasn't enough to cover the purchase. The father gave her a confused look. That's when it hit me. I can help him out. Little did I know, a cloud of kindness vapor had been released into the store. My body began to react. A lump formed in my throat. Moisture puddled in the cornerns of my eyes. I began to experience a sensation in my chest: gelatinous cardiacinus, better known as soft heart.
Then came the involuntary reflexes. My left hand lifted to signal my willingness. The other dug in my pocket for money. That's when I snapped to my senses and realized what was happening. I was under at compassion attack. I immediately lifted the lid of my shell and climbed in. I noticed other shoppers had already taken cover. I barely escaped. What would we have done without our clamshells?
...Clamshells. We come by them honestly. We don't intend to retreat from the world or stick our heads in a hole. We want to help. But the problems are immense (Did you say one billion are poor?), complex (when is helping actually hurting?), and intense (I have enough problems of my own).
That's true. We do have our own issues. Our sputtering marriages, fading ambitions, dwindling bank accounts, and stubborn hearts. How can we change the world when we can't even change our bad habits? We don't have what it takes to solve these problems. Best to climb in and shut the shell, right?
(Out Live Your Life, Max Lucado, pgs 21-23)
May I show you my new clamshell? It just arrived. My old one was thinning out. You know how worn out they can get. Sheer as the wall of a cheap motel. Mine was so chipped I could see right through it. And noise? It couldn't block the sound of a baby's whimper.
So I bought this new model. Special-ordered. Tailor-made. Top-of-the-line. I can stand up in it. Sit down in it. Sleep in the thing if I want to. Go ahead, take a look inside. See the flip-down ledge on the left? Cup holder! Check out the headphones. As if the shell's insulation wasn't enough, I can turn up the music and turn out the world. All I do is step in, grab the handle on the interior of teh upper shell, and pull it closed.
Better than body armor, thick as an army tank. Think of it as a bunker for the soul. In here the world has no hunger or orphans. And poverty? This shell comes factory coated with a sadness screen. Racism? Injustice? They bounce off my shell like rain off a turtle's back.
Let me tell you how good this baby is. I went to the convenience store this morning for coffee and a paper. I was standing in the check-out line, minding my own business, when I noticed the fellow in front of me was paying with food stamps. He wore a baseball cap, baggy khakis, and flip-flops and had three kids at his knees. Close enough to detect his thick accent, I pegged him as an immigrant. I can typically stir up a good smirk and pigeonhole these people as fast as you can say, "Burden on society." But this family started getting to me. The little girls were strawberry sweet, with their skin the color of milk chocolate and their almond-shaped eyes. One of them smiled in my direction. Before I knew it, I smiled back.
About that time the cashier shook her head and returned the food stamps. Apparently their value wasn't enough to cover the purchase. The father gave her a confused look. That's when it hit me. I can help him out. Little did I know, a cloud of kindness vapor had been released into the store. My body began to react. A lump formed in my throat. Moisture puddled in the cornerns of my eyes. I began to experience a sensation in my chest: gelatinous cardiacinus, better known as soft heart.
Then came the involuntary reflexes. My left hand lifted to signal my willingness. The other dug in my pocket for money. That's when I snapped to my senses and realized what was happening. I was under at compassion attack. I immediately lifted the lid of my shell and climbed in. I noticed other shoppers had already taken cover. I barely escaped. What would we have done without our clamshells?
...Clamshells. We come by them honestly. We don't intend to retreat from the world or stick our heads in a hole. We want to help. But the problems are immense (Did you say one billion are poor?), complex (when is helping actually hurting?), and intense (I have enough problems of my own).
That's true. We do have our own issues. Our sputtering marriages, fading ambitions, dwindling bank accounts, and stubborn hearts. How can we change the world when we can't even change our bad habits? We don't have what it takes to solve these problems. Best to climb in and shut the shell, right?
(Out Live Your Life, Max Lucado, pgs 21-23)
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