From Toilet to Testaments

My knuckles are still sore from that knockout punch I delivered on my toilet bowl yesterday. If you are wondering about why I would beat up my toilet, you’ll have to friend me on Facebook to see the pictures. No. I was not angry or venting out of any pent up frustration. My wife and I are redoing our upstairs bathroom and beating it up just seemed like a fun way to break it down into a form where our garbage man would take it away for us. We aren’t the kind of people who enjoy spending money decorating our home, but some of the plumbing was leaking, which ruined the flooring and black mould was beginning to grow on the ceiling downstairs.

Today was a much different day than yesterday. I had the privilege of handing out New Testaments to some of the grade 5 classes in 4 of the schools in my area. Without fail, every time I am out witnessing and giving away Bibles, there is always one person who catches my attention; someone who says something to me that impacts my heart and remains very much in mind for weeks and years to come. This morning was no exception.

We were in one of the public schools in our area. That in itself is an extraordinary privilege. I told the class that we as Gideons are men and women who believe that there is but One God who loves every single person on the face of the earth. He sent His son Jesus in order to make us right with Himself and we want to make sure that everyboy at least has the opportunity to get to know Him. I know that many of you would have presented the gospel much more clearly. But that’s the problem isn’t it? You weren’t there. I’ll be more than happy if God sends someone more qualified to fill my shoes. If you can present the Gospel much more clearly, I’ll be happy to step aside. Seriously.

After describing to the best of my abilities the value of knowing Jesus, one girl quietly raised her hand. I don’t know her name or her parents, and in a way, maybe that’s a good thing. She was a lovely young lady with longish blonde hair. After I acknowledged her, she went on to reveal a little bit of her family life;

“My mom and dad said that the TV brought sin into our house. Once we got rid of it, it made it all better.”

I wish I had more time to prepare for situations like this. How do you respond to a statement like that in a public school setting? Reflecting on the moment, there are many more things I would like to have shared.

In my heart, I feel for both the girl and for the family. Maybe in some way, the situation in their home isn’t quite exactly the way she has received it. Maybe her parents aren’t that black and white about it. My wife and I don’t have cable, satellite or even a working antenna, but it isn’t because the sin comes through the TV.

Or maybe they really do believe that sin comes through the television, and if we just get rid of the TV demon, that will make us right with God. If that’s the case, I still feel for them. In their heart of hearts, they might really believe that, and no matter how misguided, their intentions might be completely honourable.

Personally, I don’t plan on getting cable anytime soon. Whenever we are away staying at a motel, we turn it on. When we do, we’re reminded that we really aren’t missing much. In fact, I do believe that our family does enjoy a certain kind of intimacy because we aren’t plugged into the world in that way. There are often blessings to be had for turning off the screen.

(We do watch some programming via the internet, which really isn’t much different. Our family’s favourite show is The Biggest Loser.)

I hope I responded in a way that glorifies God and gives Christ His proper place.

“Personally, I don’t think it quite works that way, but if your parents don’t want you watching TV, I hope you’ll respect that for now.”

There is but one way to the Father, and it’s through Christ and Him alone. Self denial often carries with itself an appearance of godliness, and even has a place in our faith. The sin however doesn’t live in the TV, the bottle or the pill. The sin dwells either in our hearts or in our flesh.

I’ve said what I could and done what I could. I have to trust God for the rest.

I’ll be thinking and praying for her and her family for some time to come; perhaps for the rest of my life.