Cart of Darkness

I’ve had it up to here *pointing to my eyeballs* with people and their shopping carts.  I don’t know if it’s the warm weather, or the general decline of common decency, but within the past week, I’ve been especially annoyed by the way people behave in the grocery store.  My primary concern is their appalling use of shopping carts.

Case and point.  I was at Costco last week and stepped a few feet away from my cart to grab something high off a shelf.  The woman in front of me didn’t like the position of my cart, and instead of asking me if I could move it or discreetly repositioning it herself, she decided that the best way to achieve her desired effect was to play bumper carts.  She rammed my cart with hers: “CRASH!”  My cart went careening down the isle.  I turned around to see it rolling quickly past me, and another one had taken its place.  I dropped the item I was grabbing and chased after my cart, to keep it from plowing into other customers who weren’t paying attention to the spectacle. 

You want more examples? I’ve got plenty.

Today, I was at Costco once again (yes, I’m there a lot-you’ve got to love those samples and cheap books).  Our Costco parking lot was designed by 4-year-olds.  It takes forever to get to the parking area, let alone locate a suitable spot.  Now, it’s complicated by the obstacle course of carts, left by people who don’t want to return them. I’m used to watching people abandon their carts any old place, but I witnessed a completely new tactic today.  The woman parked next to me didn’t want to walk the 20 steps to the cart storage spot, but using only 5 steps, she could push the cart out of the parking lot completely.  That would at least get it out of the way for the cars, right?  I watched this woman take a running start with the cart, and shove the cart with all her might so it cleared a curb, sailed down a hill, and landed at the bottom on some grass.  To my astonishment, I noticed several other carts in the same area.  There were other people like her, 8 of them to be precise! 

But wait, there’s more!

This appears to be a cross cultural phenomenon.  I went to my favorite Asian market on Monday, and like usual, I couldn’t find one of the items that I needed (The organizational logic to Asian markets completely baffles me).  A helpful clerk came to assist me, and I abandoned my cart in an un-busy isle while I followed him to locate the miniature dried shrimp that I’d failed to locate with the rest of the produce (of course!).  I returned to the vacant isle with no sign of my cart.  Wherever did it go?  Scratching my head,  I retraced my steps.  Did I bring it with me to fetch the shrimp?  No.  I zigzagged back across the enormous Asian market (this thing has about 15 isles), searching for my cart, but to no avail.  What happened? I’d only left it unattended for 2-3 minutes, max.  Now, suspicious that somebody else liked my selection of random pieces of produce, spices, and cans of coconut milk, I began eyeing people’s carts.  I discovered that people don’t like it when you stare into their carts.  I got lots of nasty looks (translates “go away” in all languages).  I also didn’t find my cart.  Finally, after giving up, and heading to the fish counter to watch the fish swim in the tank for awhile (I needed something tranquil to ameliorate my nerves), I noticed a cart pushed behind one of the fish display cases.  Someone had moved my cart to the back of the store, a good 4 isles away from where it had been, and shoved it behind a cooler.  The nerve!  I really have no explanation for this one.  Personally, I think somebody was just plain messing with me.  It’s possible that an annoyed customer didn’t like the fact that I abandoned a cart and wanted it out of the way, way out of the way.  Any way you slice it, whoever moved it wasn’t very concerned about the person using that cart. 

Am I the only one witnessing such behavior?  I’ve got more stories to share, but I think I’ll wrap it up now.  I’ll save you the one about my neighbor who stole a cart to take her dog for walks in it…

I’m sure that I’m not always the paragon of cart virtue (I sometimes walk away with other people’s carts without realizing it.  Hey, maybe that’s what happened to my cart in the Asia market!).  However, I try to be cognizant of the way my choices reflect the God that I serve.  If we are to show the love of Christ to others, what would that look like in the grocery store?

My main concern is that we think about how we’re representing Christ, not just with our carts, but also with our cars, and with our boats, and with our skate boards.  Are we being rude and inconsiderate to others in public?  How does that reflect back on Jesus?

Get Out of that Boat!

Today, I was all set to have a quiet, easy day at the library, browsing through the stacks, lingering in the theology section, ponderously rooting through the evangelism books.  The sun was streaming through the windows at the Seattle Pacific University Library, and I’d managed to snag one of the best study tables on the top floor, flanked by windows on two sides and nobody else in sight.  I’ve been anxiously anticipating my first trip to this library, ever since I realized what a wealth of Christian research material was available to me there.  For days, I’ve jealously guarded today as my afternoon of solace among the dusty books.  Although events have creeped up, attempting to encroach upon my sacred study time, I’d valiantly fought to preserve it, that is, until one fateful moment. 

At last, I sat at my table, my stack of books around me.  Which one to choose?  I had barely cracked open the spine of my first choice, when my cell phone vibrated in my pocket.  It was my sister, who lives a few blocks away from the library.  In light of the beautiful day, she was inspired to take a canoe out in the Lake Washington Ship Canal for a little practice before her canoeing final the next week. She needed another body to propel her boat, and she asked if I would join her.

My first reaction?  “No way! I finally got my pile of books, and I’m enjoying this ray of sunlight and this peace and quiet.  Find somebody else to paddle around with you.”  Fortunately, I had the sense to keep this to an inner monologue.  Inevitably, after something so blatantly rude and self-centered pops in my head, I’m reprimanded by another thought, this time a bit more Spirit directed: “Why are you afraid?” 

“Who, me, afraid?”  I didn’t see that one coming. 

As it turns out, I’m afraid to let go of some of the tight control I hold over my life. I have a strong affinity for sticking to my plans.  I make plans, and I love to see them through.  I suppose that’s one of the reasons I love my palm pilot so much.  Outside of my plans, outside of my control, I have fear. 

I knew that the right response was to abandon my cozy library table and take a risk.  God had another plan for my afternoon: “Many are the plans in a man’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails” (Proverbs 19:21).

The boat trip was fantastic. I learned an incredible new skill and got to see a part of Seattle that I wouldn’t otherwise see. I got an up close view of the houseboat they used in Sleepless in Seattle, I got to wave to people on their yachts as they went by, and I occasionally got to splash my sister with my paddle when she wasn’t expecting it. 

I did have one more opportunity to face my fears today.  At the end of our long boat ride, I was overly confident about my newly acquired skills, and I attempted a quick dismount from the boat.  I landed fairly successfully on the dock, albeit on my hands and knees, but just as I turned around to congratulate myself to my sister, I noticed that she wasn’t there, and neither was the boat.  I’d managed to flip the boat, and my sister.  Ellen was bobbing next to the dock, highly upset to be drenched in the icy lake water.   Our boat was rapidly floating downstream towards the middle of the ship canal.  After assisting Ellen to getting back up on the dock, I realized that somebody had to retrieve the boat, and that somebody had better be me. 

Now, mind you, I’m not a bad swimmer, but I do have this thing about dirty water.  The ship canal is beautiful, but its water conditions are pretty nasty.  Also, it’s super cold.  Did I also mention the huge ships that go through it all the time?

Once again, I was faced with the decision.  I had my own plans, which certainly didn’t include swimming fully clothed in a dirty shipping canal, chasing after a boat floating downstream.  Then again, why should I fear? Ok, yes, there was probably good reason to fear.  However, somewhat miraculously, there were no boats in sight, so I was free and clear to retrieve our boat without worrying about being run over by Bill Gate’s yacht.  Also, I once again felt that inner prompting to step outside of my comfort zone and just “jump in.”

With one look at my sister, who was now standing on the dock, staring at our boat, which was receding further from view, I dove into the water.  I caught up with the boat, and realized that I hadn’t considered what I was going to do with it once I got there.  With some awkward swim strokes, I managed to drag the boat across the water back to the dock.  It wasn’t graceful, and it took awhile, but I did the job and arrived in one piece, albeit a bit slimy from the nasty water.

I’m reminded of someone else who had some fear issues involving a boat and some water.  Peter was comfy cozy in his boat, and Jesus showed up, walking on the water.  Jesus called Peter to come to him, but Peter’s fear got in the way (Matthew 14:25-32).  I can understand how Peter felt.  He had his own plans.  He wanted to get from one side of the lake to another via boat, not via foot.  He knew the approximate arrival time, and he could rely on the amount of safety that his boat typically offered.  When Jesus called him out of the boat, his fear took over.  He had no control, and he had to rely on Jesus for all of the control.

Today, I trusted Jesus and stepped out of the boat (and swam to retrieve it again).  I have my own plans, but I’ve got to trust that God’s got plans for me that are far greater, better than I could ever imagine, but in order for me to experience them, I’ve got to relinquish my tight control of my schedule and my life.  Who knows what opportunities he has for me, as long as I’m willing to set aside the palm pilot when he calls me to join him in the water.

Entertaining Angels

Ok, I’ve got to know. Is one of you testing me? 

On Saturday, Daniel and I went to the bookstore for one of my favorite activities:  getting a big pile of books and reading them all.  I was browsing the shelves with a pile of about 10 books in my arms, and an elderly gentleman sauntered up to me and said, “You must be a writer.”  That’s it!  No, “Hi there, how are you doing?”  No, “Wow, that’s a huge pile of books.”  Just, “You must be a writer.”

First of all, who looks at a person carrying a large pile of books and automatically assumes that she’s a writer?  Did I have a writerly look on my face?  Did I have the tell-tale ink smear marks on my hands?  Did I have that strange mix of euphoria and self-condemnation?  I suppose that one clue was that I was standing in the general “writing” area of the bookstore, and a lot of the books I was carrying were about writing. 

I immediately recognized that I was being tested.  I was looking around for somebody with a video camera, ready to catch me in the act of failing to declare myself a writer (see my post on this topic).  My response: “Um, I’m working on it.”  So, I didn’t flatly deny it. You’ve got to give me credit for that. Baby steps.

However, my worst failure of the day was my missed opportunity for conversation with someone new.  He told me that he wanted to be a writer.  How did I respond?  I gave him the “that’s nice” look and quickly absconded with my pile of books.

Here I was, in the process of researching the topic of writing one’s testimony, and somebody wanted to have a discussion with me about learning to write.  What do I do?  I brush him off!  Talk about irony!

I’m pained to remember Hebrews 13:2 right now:  “Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some people have entertained angels without knowing it.”  I’m not necessarily saying that this guy was any angel.  For all I know, he was one of you blog readers testing me (by the way, I learned my lesson).  However, he could have been someone God sent specifically for a conversation with me.  Perhaps I was supposed to give him some writing tips or recommend some good books (or THE good book).  Maybe he would have been blessed by hearing a testimony or two.  Who knows?  The fact is, I’ll never know, and I’m kicking myself about it.  To tell you the truth, in the hundreds of times that I’ve visited bookstores, I’ve never once had someone start a conversation with me.  For some reason, bookstores tend to be alienating places, don’t ask me why.  Maybe I just send off “I’m in the middle of a very important book right now” vibes.  When somebody finally wants to have a chat with me, I give them the cold shoulder.   

My moral for the day:  Entertain strangers, especially in well-lit, well-populated bookstores, and especially if they ask you suspiciously appropriate questions.

Mr. Darcy, You Keep My “Veined Ears Trembling”

Like any romance loving woman, Jane Austen has a special place in my heart.  When I heard that a movie was coming out this summer featuring her life (in Theatres August 3rd), I sought out the book on which it was based:  Becoming Jane Austen, by Jon Spence. 

I never know what I’m going to learn when I pick up books on a whim.  This time, I was just hoping for a mild romantic tale with some historical significance (literary allusions are always a bonus).  However, I ended up with a fairly academic inquiry into Jane Austen’s letters and formal writing.  In short, I learned a lot about the life of a woman struggling with a lot of the same issues that I face, 200 years in the future.

There’s little concrete information available about Jane Austen’s love life. She never married and died of Addison’s disease when she was 42 (I’m not ruining the movie, folks).  In order to create a story that featured a romance, Spence needed to make some creative leaps and large conjectures about one Tom LeFroy, who was in her life around the time she was writing Pride and Prejudice.  According to Spence Pride and Prejudice was all about Mr. Lefroy: “It was her unique way of thinking about Tom Lefroy and celebrating her delight at being in love – and at being loved.  The novel that she later called ‘my own darling Child’ was to be a gift of love for Tom Lefroy” (104). 

What most astounds me about Spence’s argument about this relatively short period in Austen’s life (from October 1796-August of 1797), is how much Austen used autobiographical information to inspire her creative work.  For example, Spence argues that contrary to our typical romantic notions,  Elizabeth Bennet does not resemble Jane Austen much, but Miss Bennett has a lot in common with this Tom LeFroy (102).  On the other hand, Mr. Darcy has more in common with Jane Austen herself, perhaps, Austen’s most autobiographical character!    I’d always assumed that novelists like Jane Austen were gifted with the ability to conjure up characters and situations out of pure imagination.  Spence makes a strong case that many of the most cherished elements of Austen’s fiction have their basis in Austen’s real life. 

Jane Austen’s sphere of influence was very limited.  She might have only known a relative handful of people, in the days before automobiles and instant messenger.  I’m reminded of the statement Mrs. Bennet makes to the Bingleys, in an attempt to brag about her sphere of influence:  “I know we dine with four and twenty families” (I.IX).  Certainly, 24 families isn’t a lot of people to know!  Jane Austen probably had a very similar level of acquaintance, perhaps even more limited, due to their lower class level.    We have connections to so many more people now that we can watch them on television, e-mail them, or check out their blog each day.  In short, we have more life available to us to write about!

All this goes to say that perhaps we should spend less time bemoaning our lack of natural creative genius and spend more time looking for the “novel” qualities in life around us. In her book on writing, Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott explains this unique writer’s perspective:  “I learned to be like a ship’s rat, veined ears trembling, and I learned to scribble it all down” (xxiii).  Writers are watchful.  They patiently look and listen for writing opportunities.

So, while I’m waiting for my Aslans to come bounding in (see my blog post on this topic), I’m also going to keep my ears pricked people or circumstances that God strategically places in my life.  You never know when you’ll meet another Elizabeth Bennett, or if you’re lucky, a Mr. Darcy.

A Writer? Who Me?

One of my favorite places to write is on airplanes.  I love sitting next to a window, getting out my laptop, praying that the chair in front of me doesn’t recline, and typing away happily while sipping on my complimentary beverage.  Maybe it’s the cabin pressure, or a lack of oxygen, or the aforementioned complimentary beverage, but for some reason, I come up with especially good stuff on airplanes. 

On one such occasion (several years ago), I was intently focused on my task and my beverage, when my overly talkative seatmate interrupted me to ask me a question (don’t you just love that).   This particular woman was obviously intrigued by the rapid fire typing going on in the seat next to her (when I get going, I average around 90 wpm…which probably explains my high word counts).  The woman leaned over and asked, “Are you a writer?”

The question was innocent enough. However, you might be surprised at my response:  “Oh no, I’m not a writer.” Providing ample evidence to the contrary, I proceeded to continue typing at the speed of light, attempting to ignore her.

I was operating under the assumption that in order to be a writer, first of all, you had to be very cool.  I, for one, hadn’t yet attained coolness; therefore, I wasn’t a writer.  Next, in my strange little world, to be a writer, you had to earn a living by selling your words.  I was a student at the time and making zero money at anything, except maybe picking berries during summer break. 

To this day, I struggle with the label “writer.”  You’ll find me hard pressed to identify myself as a writer.  Earlier this week, I was explaining to someone what I am doing with my life these days, now that I’m on summer break, and I caught myself stumbling over the words: “I’m…um…just…um…writing…ur…yeah.”  It was painful.   

Maybe when I’m cool enough, I’ll own up to it.  Until then, be prepared for some pretty awkward introductions:  “Meet my friend Amy—don’t ask her what she does because she hasn’t convinced herself about it yet.”

A Call for Testimony Questions

One of my current, larger writing projects is on the topic of Christian testimonies.  I thought I’d take advantage of my faithful blog reading audience to make a request for you all to ponder, and perhaps you might post a response too.  To better address my audience and figure out what people want to know about this topic, I’d like to know what sorts of questions people have about it.  So, here’s my request for you:

What questions do you have about Christian testimonies, or perhaps more specifically, about giving your testimony?

Let’s get past the obvious question that you might have: “what is a Christian testimony?”  The answer: Your testimony is a public acknowledgment of God’s work in your life.  

I’m looking for honest questions that you, my readers might have about this topic.  I want to know some practical things you want to know about giving your testimony or about the practice of Christians giving their testimonies.

Please post your questions in the comment box, below the post. It’s in tiny font, but it says “COMMENTS.”  Click on that word, which will bring up the text box, if it isn’t up on your screen already.  For those of you who are signed up to receive my posts by e-mail (available on the right hand column of this blog), you have two options.  You can follow this link: http://amyletinsky.wordpress.com/2007/05/22/a-call-for-testimony-questions/trackback/ and leave your comment there, or you can also hit reply to the e-mail and send me your comment that way. 

I’d love to try to answer some of your questions, if at all possible.  However, I make no guarantees that I’ll know the answer! 

Thanks in advance for your questions! You can be a big help to me in my writing process, as I anticipate what my audience might want to learn.  When I assign a big research project to my students, I always have them go through a similar process with their writing groups.  They ask each other questions about their topic, to help them think about what their audience might want to know.  I’m just trying to practice what I preach!

Mind the Gap

Yesterday, it was my little sister Ellen’s birthday (Happy Birthday Ellie!), and my family celebrated by going to Seattle’s Spaghetti Factory.  We were seated with a lovely view of Seattle’s new sculpture park and the waterfront, and across from us, two young women were seated.  The young woman facing me was strikingly beautiful, with long blond hair, a shapely form, tasteful makeup, expensive clothes, and manicured nails.  She had the most infectious smile that was contagious, and she never seemed to stop smiling.  However, one of the first things I noticed about her was a gigantic gap in the middle of her two, top front teeth.  This gap put David Letterman’s teeth to shame.  I wondered if she had a piece of lettuce wedged in there or something, simulating the disfigurement.  However, I was sitting close enough to be reasonably certain that she simply had one of the largest tooth gaps that I’ve ever seen in my life. 

 

Do you know the feeling, when there’s road kill or an accident by the side of the road, and you know you shouldn’t look but do it anyway because you can’t help yourself?  Well, that was my problem.  I couldn’t take my eyes off the gap.  The young woman didn’t seem to notice my blatant staring, which was fortunate for her, since I was being so rude.  I wanted to know why in the world she kept smiling so wide.  I mean, if she didn’t have such a huge grin all the time, nobody would notice such a gianormous gap.

 

Then, I realized, she doesn’t care.  She’d embraced her gap and was willing to let it shine.  It was part of her personality and her face, and she didn’t let it detract from her beauty.  As I was realizing all of this, I was becoming more and more convicted, guiltily slurping down my plate of spaghetti.  There was a lesson here, a lesson that harkened back to my trip to London several years ago.

In London, before you enter or exit the subway train, you hear a voice over the loudspeaker say, “mind the gap.”  In British English, this means, “watch out for that huge crack between the pavement and the door, lest you fall in and get squished when the train moves”  (You’ve got to love those Brits for succinct language).  I heard that voice saying, “mind the gap,” and I realized that most of us naturally mind gaps, especially in other people.  We look for the flaws, the lack, the ways people are inadequate, and we can’t help but focus on those things.   

Can you imagine what would happen if your eyes roamed for surpluses or blessings, instead of minded gaps?  You’d have more opportunities for praises, less for condemnation, and you’d probably be a much nicer person to be around.  I know that I’d prefer a friend who looked at my strengths and not so much at my flaws. 

We have a God whose eyes see all our gaps and surpluses and loves us just the same, because he made us that way on purpose: 

For you created my inmost being;
You knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you
When I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
Your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
Were written in your book
Before one of them came to be.  (Psalm 139: 13-16)

A friend of mine recently recommended this Psalm to me (Thanks Judy!).  It speaks powerfully about God’s perfect plan for our form.  May we all have eyes that are mindful of God’s design.  We’re all “fearfully and wonderfully made.”

“Turning Down” Jesus

A friend of mine sent me a note earlier this week, boldly confessing to something she did, to which many of us can probably relate.  She was in her van with her kids, listening to Christian praise music “jamming to scriptures through song.”  When she drove by her neighbors, who were out in their yards, she instinctively turned down the music, out of fear.  How often have I been in a similar situation, and I “turn down Jesus” because I worry what others will think about me?

There’s subtle ways that we “turn down Jesus” in our lives.  You might stop giving credit to Jesus and start taking more credit yourself.  In public, do you pray at mealtimes?  Do you mention your church activities to nonbelievers?  When confronted with someone that you want to impress, have you ever tucked your cross pendant under your neckline?  What about that fish on your bumper?  Did you put it in an unobtrusive place, or is it smack dab in the center?  I know a guy who didn’t settle for one fish.  He had an entire school of them.

Of course, there are biblical examples as well.  Peter stands out as the biggie.  Three times people asked him about Jesus, and three times he denied Christ.  I can especially relate with the people at the Feast of Tabernacles.  They “turned down Jesus” in my most habitual way: “Among the crowds there was widespread whispering about him.  Some said, ‘He is a good man.’  Others replied, ‘No, he deceives the people.’  But no one would say anything publicly about him for fear of the Jews” (John 7:12-13).  Out of their fear, these people whispered among themselves about Jesus.  They didn’t reach out to spread the good news; they kept comfortable, speaking with hushed tones to safe people.  They literally turned down the volume on all Jesus talk.  That way, nobody dangerous could overhear.

The apostle Paul speaks a lot on the topic of shame.  His boldness is an encouragement to us all.  Paul doesn’t tell us that we’ll be safe, but he does tell us that our boldness is worth the risk:

For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline. So do not be ashamed to testify about our Lord, or ashamed of me his prisoner. But join with me in suffering for the gospel, by the power of God, who has saved us and called us to a holy life–not because of anything we have done but because of his own purpose and grace. This grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior, Christ Jesus, who has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel. And of this gospel I was appointed a herald and an apostle and a teacher. That is why I am suffering as I am. Yet I am not ashamed, because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him for that day ( II Timothy 1:7-12). 

Let’s turn up the Jesus. Let’s blast him out our speakers.  Let’s shout him over the rooftops.  We have good news to share.  Pump up the volume.

“Aslan Came Bounding In”

The more I read about the creative process, the more I begin to realize how passive we are in it.  Some of the most creative people in the world claim that their most amazingly brilliant creations were less products of sweat and toil and more gifts that were bestowed upon them.

My primary example of this is C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia.  In a short essay entitled “Creating Narnia,” Lewis explains how he came up with his most memorable characters for the book.  For Lewis, “Everything began with images; a faun carrying an umbrella, a queen on a sledge, a magnificent lion.”  Lewis didn’t sit at his writing desk for days on end, pulling out his hair, trying to imagine the perfect images to embody evil, good, and represent Christ in an allegory for children.  He didn’t turn to his vast collection of books or his Oxford education to seek out ancient characters for literary resonance.

The books began with the Faun, whom we now know as Mr. Tumnus.  Lewis saw the faun since he was the ripe old age of 16, long before he became a Christian, got an Oxford education, or lived through many life shaping experiences. In his youth, his mind saw “a Faun carrying an umbrella and parcels in a snowy wood.”

There was no story yet, just pictures.  Then, one day, when he was about forty, “Aslan came bounding into it.”  That’s it.  Out of nowhere, one of the greatest characters in children’s fiction runs into Lewis’ mind, and the rest is history.   

This leads me to a question for all of us to consider:   how much is God involved in the creative process?  Did God ask Aslan to leap into Lewis’s mind?  Long before God got hold of Lewis’s heart, did he begin speaking to Lewis through these characters? 

I don’t want to remove Lewis from the equation, as much as Lewis seems to want himself removed from it (humble as he is).  However, I do want to recognize the large role that God might play in putting characters or ideas into creative minds.  Lewis knew he couldn’t take full responsibility for his work.  Somebody has to get the glory.  It might as well be God.

I have comfort in knowing that the creative process doesn’t rest completely on my strength alone.  I’ll wait patiently for my Aslans to come bounding in.

The Shampoo for Discontented Hair

I was shopping for some shampoo for my husband the other day, and his typical brand, which he’s used for the 6 years we’ve been married, has made some changes.  No longer can I simply choose Pantene Pro-V 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner. Now, there are about 30 different varieties of this particular formula.  Normally, I’m all for choices.  However, these choices indicate a deeper concern. Let me list them for you:

Smooth and Sleek (for frizzy hair)
Sheer Volume (for hair that’s limp and needs a boost)
Daily Moisture Renewal (for dry/damaged hair)
Color Revival Hair (for dyed hair that’s drab)
Hydrating Curls (to keep your dry curls moist and under control)
Full & Thick (for thin/thinning hair)

What’s the problem, you ask?   I was standing in the isle for 20 minutes staring at the descriptions for these things, thinking to myself, “I like my husband’s hair.  There’s nothing wrong with it.”  

When all our products are tailored to fix our problems, we start looking for the problems, so we know what product to pick. These products make us focus on our flaws. I had to start thinking about what was wrong with my husband’s hair.  I started finding weaknesses, all for the sake of choosing his shampoo.  How many other ways does our culture ask us to examine our flaws, all for the sake of making a purchase or choosing our entertainment? 

Our society is constantly pushing us to be discontent with our appearance, with what God has given us, with our situation in life.  Instead, God has called us to a different mentality.  Paul accomplished this:  “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want” (Philippians 4:11-12). 

Which shampoo did I choose?  I’ll just say that I chose the one that insulted my husband’s hair the least.

As a side note, since going to the store, I checked Pantene’s website, and they advertise a variety called “Classic Clean” that no store around me seems to carry.  That sounds like the old formula, guaranteed to fix the only problem my husband’s hair has, which is that it occasionally gets dirty.