By Michelle (Graceful, Faith in the Everyday)
When my son Rowan settles on a favorite book, he likes to read it five, six, ten times in a row, night after night after night. Most recently it’s been The Lorax. I glimpse him heading toward the bed, cornflower blue cover of The Lorax wedged under his arm, and I grit my teeth and commence meditative breathing.
I admit, I don’t love Dr. Seuss. All that silly rhyming and nonsensical tongue-twisting syntax. The googly-googs and the moodly-woobs, the wiffle-wambas and the schissle-schambas. It’s all just too much for me. Really, after a long day of work and dishes, laundry and homework, epic dust-bunny battles and sorting stacks of mail and backpack debris, I’m expected to perform linguistic cartwheels, too? I’ll be frank: I’ve been known to slide The Lorax, Green Eggs & Ham and The Birthday Bird beneath the dusty, crumby underbelly of the couch, where no man or child dares go. I’ve also carted a few in the Seuss oeuvre to the Goodwill. Let some other mother, the one with infinite patience and a more limber tongue, deal with Thing One and Thing Two.
Last week, though, during the 101st reading of The Lorax, the good Doctor got me thinking. In between descriptions of Brown Bar-ba-loots and Truffula fruits, I read this:
“I meant no harm. I most truly did not. But I had to grow bigger. So bigger I got. I biggered my factory. I biggered my roads. I biggered my wagons. I biggered the loads of the Thneeds I shipped out….I went right on biggering…selling more Thneeds. And I biggered my money, which everyone needs..”
Dr. Suess nailed me. He nailed my attitude toward stuff: more, more, more. Bigger, bigger, bigger.
“We need a bigger house,” I bemoan to Brad. “I can’t stand sharing the toothpasty sink with the boys for one more second.”
“We need more storage!” I complain. “Have you tried walking through our death-trap basement lately?!”
“I need more clothes; I feel like such a frump-bum,” I tell my sister on the phone. “Same old sweaters, same old pants, day in and day out.”
Are you getting the picture here? I am the Once-ler, the greedy creature who means no harm, but simply needs more, more, more. Bigger stuff. Better stuff. Nicer, more expensive stuff.
But here’s the trouble: you can’t be both a Once-ler and a follower of Jesus. The two don’t gel; they don’t get along. Jesus tells me I must pick… it’s him or the Once-ler. I can’t have both. Jesus is tough like that:
“No one can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money.” (Matthew 6:24)
Jesus doesn’t mince his words, does he? He doesn’t say I can walk the line; he doesn’t tell me I can have a little bit of both God and money. It’s black and white for him: I need to be devoted to one and despise the other. It’s a choice, and it’s up to me. There’s no middle ground for Jesus.
Lately when I see Rowan come running toward the bed with The Lorax in his hands, I wince, not simply because of the inane language and ridiculous prose, but because I know I’ll see a reflection of myself on those pages. On the far end of town where the Grickle-grass grows, I hear Jesus himself on that Whisper-ma-Phone.
The question is: Will I listen?
Michelle is a Christian wife and mother of two originally from Massachusetts now living in Nebraska. She is a part-time writer, editor and fundraiser for Nebraska PBS/NPR. Michelle loves to write about how her family illuminates God's presence in her everyday life, and on finding (and keeping) faith in the everyday. Michelle enjoys reading, running and writing. Be sure to go visit her blog, Graceful, Faith in the Everyday.