There’s a song I like called Crazy by Gnarls Barkley. I don’t what the genre is and I don’t know how old it is. I never do know things like that. All that matters to me is that it has a catchy beat, with vocals more comical than lyrical, and Sam and I love to dance to it. And I’m not one to know lyrics, but I’ve listened to it so many times that they’ve begun to sink in. My favorite stanza is:
Come on now
who do you, who do you, who do you,
who do you think you are?
ha ha ha bless your soul
you really think you’re in control?
I think you’re crazy.
I think you’re crazy.
Ha ha ha bless my soul. It is indeed crazy how I sometimes live like I am in control, even though I know the Bible speaks to this lunacy over and over again. Remember the rich farmer who decided one day to take life easy — to eat, to drink, to be merry? Remember that day was his last? (Luke 12). Proverbs 19:21 says, “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the LORD’s purpose that prevails.” And in Luke, Jesus asks the rather pointed question, “Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?” Needless to say, no hands went up. We cannot even ensure we will breathe another breath and yet we idiotically presume we are in control–planning and plotting out our lives. Then, when things go awry, we moan and pout.
Take today for example. I took my minivan to the gas station to get a state inspection sticker. They take your wheels off, look at your brakes, verify your lights work, open the hood, inspect who knows what, and for a fee slap a sticker on your windshield. When I took the vehicle in, the a/c was working. In fact, it was blowing ice cold air. When I reclaimed possession and darted off to recess duty with my trusty sticker, I turned the air on and nothing happened. No air blew, neither hot nor cold. Frustrated and certain they must have knocked something loose, I took the car back an hour later. They assured me that it was impossible that they botched my air. They didn’t touch my air. They were unconvinced by my assertion that it was a mathematical impossibility that the air just happened to go out during the thirty minutes they were tinkering with my car. I firmly insisted they take a look at it, which they did. After about ten minutes, the gentleman returned and said, “the front blower is out.” This was news? I left without remedy, picked up Sam from Mother’s Morning Out and loaded him into the mobile sauna.
I decided we’d just proceed to the grocery as planned. Boys drink a lot of milk, and we were almost out. We were stopped at a light, and I thought to myself. “It’s hard not to sweat the small stuff when you’re this sweaty.” And then it was like an epiphany. This is small stuff. It’s aggravating. But it is small stuff. At that precise moment, my air conditioning started to sputter and spit. There was a whining sound within the hood and I didn’t know if that meant we were about to combust or what. But lo and behold, in the minutes that followed the air conditioning began to work, feebly at first, then as good as it ever has. I just smiled and smiled, enjoying the cold air like never before.
I have no explanation for what occurred other than God was graciously reminding me that I am not in control of my circumstances. I can control my attitude and how much I trust Him, but beyond that, well, that’s just crazy.