Wednesday, April 17, 2013


Its been one of those days. You know what kind.

Smashing your thumb in the car door.

Losing in Super Smash Brothers n64.

Spilling hot tea on your inner thigh.

It isn't the big things that really bother me. I handled the loss of my grand parents relatively well. I made it through my first year of paying back student loans, juggling two jobs, a girlfriend, a potential graduate school detour and, above all else, managed to write the introduction of a potential Masters Thesis.

But those things pale in comparison to smashing your thumb in a car door.

I wondered, for roughly fifteen minutes, why it hurts more to have such microscopic nuisances happen. Is it because the big things are expected? Likely, perhaps.

But, in my life, the big things are aggressive, and I guess I don't have much to worry about because, frankly, big bad things are to be expected. So, yes, likely, perhaps.

However, its the little unexpected things. Like having to drive someone somewhere after an 8 hour day. Like smashing your thumb in the car door. Like feeling sick because you have minor opportunities to write and succeed but writing feels like pulling underarm hair.

Like little things are bigger than big things.

Then one wonders if little things are really little, or if things are things and things become big or little based on the current frame of reference. A piece of sand looks amusing to an ant, but the same piece of sand doesn't register on my radar at all.

But maybe it isn't perspective.

Maybe its pain. It doesn't really pain me to write about theology, film, blogging, humor or anything like that. In some remote way, if it is experiential, maybe. Instead, smashing my thumb in a car door brought forth such a rush of fury that I swore for fifteen straight minutes and am pretty confident that my cat now thinks he is divine.

Pain maybe makes for retreat. Both physical, mental, spirit. Its easy to retreat, be scared, be alone. Then all of the images come forth of women and men in great antiquity that suffered and fled. In Hebrews, the idea of 'giving account' is quite potent. Will I give an account before YHWH because I slammed my thumb in a car door and deified my cat?

Probably. Hopefully I'll (and God) will work through that one.

But its still a big thing. Now it is

But its no longer hidden.

There is power in confession, in release of sin and suffering. To do so bares ourselves before creator and creation, to give of our inner fear and pain so that another may see. In my experience, it sometimes helps. Sometimes.

But it is no longer hidden, no longer a mystery.

And who doesn't love a good reveal?

Thanks for reading.



  1. This reminds me of the song "This is the Stuff" by Batistelli. I ahvent had one of these days in a while, although I do think I just jinxed my self. Great.


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