Anyway, I tried redrafting my original post after I came out of the fog, but I couldn't make it come together. It read like some late-night, drunken, stream-of-consciousness, college student's rambling. (Maybe I should have just published it.) After working on it over the past month and a half, it now reads more like a long winded, high school student's essay rewritten by a parent before work on the morning it is due.
Bottom line: it is just bad. But, there is a lot of good thought in it too, so instead of trying to make sense out of it, I decided to break it up into smaller portions. Small bites, right? So, here is my first brain damage induced nugget of wisdom:
You can't instantly marinate a steak. (Bam! Mic drop.)
Seriously though. It takes time for the acids to break down the tissue and the salts to penetrate the cells. In fact, without time, a marinade isn't a marinade at all. It's just sauce. It covers the meat. It makes it taste better, but sauce doesn't fundamentally change anything. It doesn't work into every potential bite. It doesn't tenderize. It doesn't transform. Without time, a marinated steak is basically the same gristly, tough, chewy protein with which you began. (Only now, maybe it is also self-consciously aware of its short-comings.)
During the four months prior to Thanksgiving, I couldn't bring myself to write. I sat down a few times, and simply couldn't bring anything up. Maybe I needed a head injury to get me started, but I think some of it was that I was feeling sorry for myself. There was some self-pity in there and some resignation, but mostly, I think I was just marinating. Like a steak. (See? Like a steak? Clever, huh?)
Okay, not so clever, but growth is like that. Ideas are like that. It takes time for ideas to transition from the theoretical (on the surface) to the practical (penetrating your life). It takes time for understanding to take hold. Unfortunately, five months later, I think the lessons are just beginning to penetrate. I'm still marinating.
Because, turns out, I'm a pretty poor cut of beef. And, more importantly, God isn't the type to stop the process early. I don't really picture God in his heavenly kitchen preparing a steak, but if he did, I doubt he'd cook it for a while, say, "Good enough," slap it on a plate and add, "Throw some ketchup on it. It will taste better." He would finish the job. He promises to finish the job.
Seriously though. It takes time for the acids to break down the tissue and the salts to penetrate the cells. In fact, without time, a marinade isn't a marinade at all. It's just sauce. It covers the meat. It makes it taste better, but sauce doesn't fundamentally change anything. It doesn't work into every potential bite. It doesn't tenderize. It doesn't transform. Without time, a marinated steak is basically the same gristly, tough, chewy protein with which you began. (Only now, maybe it is also self-consciously aware of its short-comings.)
During the four months prior to Thanksgiving, I couldn't bring myself to write. I sat down a few times, and simply couldn't bring anything up. Maybe I needed a head injury to get me started, but I think some of it was that I was feeling sorry for myself. There was some self-pity in there and some resignation, but mostly, I think I was just marinating. Like a steak. (See? Like a steak? Clever, huh?)
Okay, not so clever, but growth is like that. Ideas are like that. It takes time for ideas to transition from the theoretical (on the surface) to the practical (penetrating your life). It takes time for understanding to take hold. Unfortunately, five months later, I think the lessons are just beginning to penetrate. I'm still marinating. Because, turns out, I'm a pretty poor cut of beef. And, more importantly, God isn't the type to stop the process early. I don't really picture God in his heavenly kitchen preparing a steak, but if he did, I doubt he'd cook it for a while, say, "Good enough," slap it on a plate and add, "Throw some ketchup on it. It will taste better." He would finish the job. He promises to finish the job.
Philippians 1:6 says "For I am confident of this very thing, that He who began a good work in you will perfect it until the day of Christ Jesus." And I'm glad about that, because if I'm going through this, I'd better come out tasty. It isn't fun, but it's worthwhile. Who wants to stay the same tough, gristly, immature version of themselves, anyway?
So, I'm still marinating, but I hope I'm close to done.
...cause I'm a little raw (Ha!)
...and tender (double Ha!)
...and the next step is turning up the heat!
...before someone trims the fat!
...Sorry.
Bon Appetit.
