Nothing is something

By David Myers

Southwest Kansas Register

A few weeks ago, we here at the chancery experienced a several-hour period during which our computers weren’t working properly. It had something to do with the server. Or the receiver. Or the carburetor, for all I know.

When you’re on deadline and your computer breaks down, it can be really, really stressful. My heart starts palpitating. My eye twitches. I begin panting like a dog. And while, for most men hair loss is gradual, during these times chunks of my hair will pop right out of my head, floating down onto my keyboard like a hairy blizzard.

One more bad stress day and I’ll have a comb-over. Another one and I’ll look like Kojak. Another one after that and I’ll begin to resemble a Styrofoam cup with a face drawn on.

So, I called our computer guy who said he was busy and, checking his schedule, explained he wouldn’t be able to make it out until “Hmmmm. A year from next Tuesday. Around 2-ish.”

Relieved that I wouldn’t have to wait the usual three to five years, I patiently waited, reminded of the line from “Monty Python and the Holy Grail,” in which the Knights of Nee demand of King Arthur, “…You must cut down the mightiest tree in the forest ... wiiiith ... a herring!”

My newspaper was a tree and my computer a herring. You ever try designing a newspaper on a small fish? Every time I hit the “return” key it slapped me in the face with its dorsal fin. Metaphorically speaking.

Staring into the blank screen, I eventually found myself dozing off. I dreamt that I had a conversation with a mouse named Edward G. Robinson. Perched atop my desk, he told me that his father had stayed up one night long ago -- hidden under a coffee table while reclining on a bunched up sock – watching “Key Largo.” Edward said his father became such a fan of the actor that he named his firstborn son after him.

“Enough about who I am,” Edward said in a voice somewhere between Betty Boop and Lyndon Johnson. “Let’s talk about who you are.”

“Me? I know perfectly well who I am,” I said to the mouse. “I like bean burritos, old movies, avoiding embarrassing situations, and daydreaming about being highly skilled at something.”

“That’s great, Dave. Bean burritos and old movies. Thrilling. Now, tell me about your priorities. What do you believe?”

I wanted to tell him that I didn’t believe in talking mice, but that would have been rude. It took me a few minutes, but I realized that I had been so busy just trying to get through each day, that I hadn’t taken the time to truly acknowledge God’s place in my life.

Thank you, Edward G. Robinson.

We’re so busy ... always running. There’s a great joy in experiencing quiet nothing from time to time. The other day I was playing this game with my dog where I’d throw a rubber ball and she’d run and get it. She’d sit down and chew on it for a little while, then walk away and sniff something on the lawn. Then she’d yawn real big, find a shady spot, circle three times and lay down.

She’s got the right idea, I thought.

There’s something wonderful about doing nothing -- relaxing in the quiet, listening for God’s soft whisper.

It’s important to know when it’s not time for quiet reflection -- when it’s time to act. Sometimes I come home and look at my big lawn with the grass growing high and the millions of weeds strong and eager, and I think, You know, rather than mow the lawn tonight, I think I’ll do nothing. Yes, nothing sounds much better than mowing. To which God responds, “There’s a difference between listening quietly for my word and just being lazy. Go mow.”

To be sure, hearing God’s voice doesn’t require quiet. God’s voice is louder than a lawn mower; it’s louder than the jet engine flying overhead. It’s even louder than those two annoying dogs that live behind the chancery.

But there is a time -- a time for relaxing in the quiet, listening to God’s word amid no distractions.

So next time your computer is on the blink and you find yourself wanting to pull your hair out, look at it as a gift from God. The gift of doing nothing; ever so brief, ever so sweet. Enjoy it while you can.