It’s a dangerous thing to question the motives of others. Without the ability to read minds, it becomes impossible to know for certain why people do what they do. Still, we try. We project our own experience, morality, and beliefs into situations we know little about and become certain of motives about which we have only cursory knowledge. Then we judge. Oh, how we judge. We make our judgments based on limited facts and our own deep reasoning.
Being a man of only shallow reasoning, I have trouble understanding my own motives at times so how could I possible know what drives you?
Take for example my recent outdoor experience.
I recently acquired a burn barrel. Now I’m not saying she’s the love of my life, but we do spend significant time together over the weekends. I fill her up until she glows and when she flames out, I lift her in an embrace and gently empty her. If that’s not love…
There is constantly fuel for my burn barrel in our woods and I wasn’t running low, but I also had to trim the hedges. You could say I “over-trimmed” or got carried away. If one were to question my motives they might say that I was looking for more fuel because the hedges are now gone. And when I say gone, I mean not only are they removed from the front of my house, they are smoke and ash. (insert little boy insatiable grin here)
When you get the fire hot enough, newly trimmed hedges are awesome to burn because of the moisture content. They sound like nature being tortured. But what happens when we torture nature? It tortures us back. Case in point the recent story about the rhino poacher who met the elephant and his buddy Mr. Lion. Karma hurts and I found out the world of flora has teeth too.
On day 3, God was at his creative best making lush meadow grasses, mighty oaks, roses, and lilies. Yet for some reason, he decided to throw in a little hell-weed called poison ivy. I’m not questioning his motives… but why? What could possibly be the purpose.
I know what poison ivy looks like and I know what to avoid, but somehow it snuck in my burn barrel. Listen children – don’t burn poison ivy. God not only made it a topical nuisance, he decided that inhaling it in smoke should be detrimental to your health, as well. Yeah God.
I won’t detail my itchy conundrum of the last few weeks. Let’s just say it took a while to get over that little patch of stupid.
And did I learn anything?
It’s highly unlikely. I still burn yard debris, but I am more selective and watch out for ropy vines.
I’ve been trying not to doubt God’s motives in all this. I do wonder if red ants, mosquitos, and poison ivy are his little way of getting back at us for all we do to destroy what he created on day three. In the end, it was nice that he didn’t throw any giant venus fly traps in the woods.
I wonder if they would burn?