Not long ago, NBC News teamed up with Esquire magazine on a study of the rage that characterizes American society today. They surveyed 3,000 Americans to determine who in our day is the angriest, what’s making them so angry, and, perhaps most importantly, who’s to blame. One of the more interesting statistics in the study revealed that half of all Americans are angrier today than they were a year ago. In large measure this anger stems from the perception that life is not working out for those persons as they always assumed it would. They see others as standing in the way of their progress, and they don’t see things improving any time soon (“American Rage,” Esquire, 1/3/16).
It wasn’t too long ago that Home and Garden Television attracted a good number of viewers with their popular series on “Tiny Houses.” Many of you probably are familiar with what I’m talking about. “Tiny Houses” involves a concept in home construction that saw people moving from large-scale home construction to minimalist footprints of something less than 600 square feet, which gives an entirely new spin to the old term “humble abode.”
If there’s anything that we Americans like, it’s the ability to have a plethora of choices at our disposal in any given situation. None of us wants to be in a position where we find ourselves limited in terms of options. When it comes time for us to make a decision about anything in life, our mantra is: “The more choices we have, the merrier we will be.”
Malcolm Gladwell is a Canadian journalist, author, and public speaker who burst on the public scene some twenty years ago with his astute observations of how so much of the social sciences – in particular, psychology, sociology, and economic theory – play out in everyday life. All of his books manage to make their way to the top of the best seller lists and for good reason. Gladwell simply has this knack for holding up a mirror to our souls so that we can see aspects of our lives that we knew about in our hearts by never bothered to bring to the surface for further examination.
By this time in the season, my guess is that you’ve pretty much finished up with everyone on your Christmas list. If you haven’t, let me remind you that the time is running out. You’ve only got a couple of days left, and you’d better get on the ball this afternoon or tomorrow.
Some time ago, on an episode of the History Channel’s reality show about a Las Vegas pawn shop, a man brought in a violin and asked for an appraisal. The man claimed that he had recently purchased a piece of property that included a house and a barn, and shortly after his purchase, he came across an old chest, which when he opened, revealed the violin safely tucked inside. As the man dusted off the near-perfect instrument, he found the name “Stradivarius” inscribed on the violin. As most of you know, a Stradivarius violin in any condition is worth a great deal of money. So, the man had his fingers crossed that this violin would be his lottery ticket to Easy Street.
I don’t know of another passage of Scripture that is more well-known or more beloved than this passage I just read for you. It’s one of the first verses of Scripture that most folk learn “by heart” because it conveys the core message of the Gospel and the means by which we secure eternal life.
Most of the stories Jesus told lend themselves to easy application, do they not? Consider, for example, the story of the Prodigal Son or the story of the Good Samaritan. Everybody resonates with those two stories because everybody understands them and can relate to them. After all, who among us hasn’t felt the tug toward the far country and felt the need to come home once we had come to our senses? Or, who among us hasn’t wrestled with the responsibility of going out of our way to help another in need, especially when we at one point were on the receiving end of such aid? In almost every story Jesus tells, there is at least one character we can see ourselves in, or one character we can imagine ourselves working to become.
Many of you will remember back in the 80’s a most successful advertising campaign by the National Enquirer magazine, which had as its tagline, “Enquiring Minds Want to Know.” What made that campaign so successful was the way it allowed that gossip rag of a publication to attain at least a modest level of respectability in popular American culture by granting people permission to read it because of how doing so would only be engaging in something that on the surface could never be considered entirely bad. After all, who among us doesn’t harbor some measure of curiosity about what’s going on around us in life? Who among us doesn’t want to be “in the know” about important happenings? Who among us doesn’t want to be perceived as possessing an “enquiring mind?”