The theology of gum

Theology of the gum:

I'm, chewing gum. (I know; fill in your own joke about not knowing I could chew gum and type at the same time).

I tell you this to illustrate a point. I like this new type of gum, called ice cubes, for it is soft, chewy, and filled with taste...for about 10 chews. Then, because it is relatively small, I must add a new piece. Minutes pass and I've noticed that my wad of gum has grown to the size of a ball of yarn.

Why?

I can't be pleased with something that last but seconds. I can't. Just can't. Have I mentioned that I can't?

Therein lies a problem. Life lasts a bit longer than a few seconds. What we do with life comes after the goodness has gone, I'm afraid.

After the sweetness has been removed...
after the best has gone...
after the liveliness has evaporated...
after the aches have come and the pains have set in...
after the guilt has arrived and the freshness of joy has packed up and headed to a new address...

There lies life. Just lies there. Doesn't do hoop jumping. Doesn't do back bending. Doesn't do high flying.

That doesn't mean that all of life isn't lived in a freshness that enlivens your taste buds and shows you the way to a goodness you can't explain. No. There's plenty of that still out there, ready to pop open and absorb.

But most of life is lived in a monotony of, well, chewing and chewing and chewing. We are given life and we plug away, plug away, have a great moment, have a bad one, plug away, plug away.

Everyone lives this way. No matter what they tell us about the joy of the Lord, much of the time is spent in the mundane of the Lord. And that's okay. It has to be. See, the Bible is a lot of things, but a daily record of what David did while he was alive it is not. What Jesus did on Tuesday, April 16, AD 31 it is not. So there is a lot of just walking in there. A lot of just packing, moving, washing faces, combing hair, you know...stuff.

That's life. Chewing till the flavor is gone, then chewing till the gum is gone. Those aren't one and the same, I'm afraid.

John Mellancamp wrote, years ago, "Oh, yeah, life goes on, long after the thrill of living is gone." That's pure gum theology. You do all these things for the first time and you're so very excited about doing them, till you do them for the 3,000 time and then they're not quite so thrilling.

Take tying shoes. Someone invented velcro just because they were bored with tying shoes.

Take HG TV. Someone invented these television shows because they couldn't figure out another use for the word space. Remember when going into space was a thrill? Now...every room is a "space." How boring we've become.

In the Old Testament, the writer of Ecclesiastes told us, "The sun comes up and the sun goes down,
then does it again, and again—the same old round.
The wind blows south, the wind blows north.
Around and around and around it blows,
blowing this way, then that—the whirling, erratic wind.
All the rivers flow into the sea,
but the sea never fills up.
The rivers keep flowing to the same old place,
and then start all over and do it again.
Everything's boring, utterly boring—
no one can find any meaning in it.
Boring to the eye,
boring to the ear.
What was will be again,
what happened will happen again.
There's nothing new on this earth.
Year after year it's the same old thing.
Does someone call out, "Hey, this is new"?
Don't get excited—it's the same old story.
Nobody remembers what happened yesterday.
And the things that will happen tomorrow?
Nobody'll remember them either.
Don't count on being remembered."

Wow. That makes gum boredom seem not quite so bad, doesn't it? That's a serious case of "what do I do next?"

Luckily, Jesus spoke to this (in a way) when he said, "You're tied down to the mundane; I'm in touch with what is beyond your horizons. You live in terms of what you see and touch. I'm living on other terms. I told you that you were missing God in all this. You're at a dead end. If you won't believe I am who I say I am, you're at the dead end of sins. You're missing God in your lives."

What we need is a shot of joy into our mundane lives. We need a gum whose sweetness lasts long after the sweetness should be gone. We need a cure for boredom that doesn't include sin. What we need is God in our lives. God is never the same-old for we never know what He will do next. We only say we do.

So today, when you accept the piece of gum your friend offers, know that the gum won't last, but the offer of friendship (which comes from God first) will. Then be thankful. Being thankful is never gummy.