We were in Arizona last week as a family for a physical therapy intensive for Ruth. While I have much to share for Miss Roo’s News (that update is coming), this post is about some thoughts I had as I spent time with Martha this week.
Experiences
While Ruth was in her afternoon therapy sessions with Lauren and my mom, Martha and I went out to explore. This might be the closest we get to a family vacation this year, so we wanted to make the most of our time in Phoenix, AZ.
We started the week by visiting some of the newer and nicer playgrounds in the area. If that was all we did for the whole week, Martha would have been content. I should have been too. After all, they’re free!
But I was determined to give Martha experiences. There’s a lot to do there, and I wanted to make the most of our limited time. No doubt I picked that up from vacations with my dad.
We started the week by visiting some of the newer and nicer playgrounds in the area. If that was all we did for the whole week, Martha would have been content. I should have been too. After all, they’re free!
But I was determined to give Martha experiences. There’s a lot to do there, and I wanted to make the most of our limited time. No doubt I picked that up from vacations with my dad.
An Unexpected Pattern
After receiving a recommendation, Martha and I found ourselves at Wildlife World. If you imagine a zoo with an aquarium sprinkled with a bit of amusement park and set to a rustic theme, you won’t be far off.
As we walked through the main entrance, the first thing we saw was the log ride. Naturally we stopped to watch it, especially because it finished with a big splash.
I soon discovered that Martha would be happy to watch this the rest of the day. Even if no one was on it. It was little inspiration to her when I told her that there were the many, many other things we should go see. She couldn’t care less about the shark that was bigger than her, she was satisfied with the log ride!
This trend continued the next day when we went to the Phoenix Zoo. Martha didn’t seem to care much about the rhino wading through a pool, she was happy to ramble about singing to her baby doll. Clearly I hadn’t learned my lesson.
Then it happened again at the Desert Botanic Garden. The prospect of a butterfly pavilion was nothing compared to the patch of rocky sand she discovered while I was purchasing our tickets. Thankfully, we did make it to the butterflies, but we also made it back to dig around in the sand as people entered and exited the garden. I tried not to look at them.
As we walked through the main entrance, the first thing we saw was the log ride. Naturally we stopped to watch it, especially because it finished with a big splash.
I soon discovered that Martha would be happy to watch this the rest of the day. Even if no one was on it. It was little inspiration to her when I told her that there were the many, many other things we should go see. She couldn’t care less about the shark that was bigger than her, she was satisfied with the log ride!
This trend continued the next day when we went to the Phoenix Zoo. Martha didn’t seem to care much about the rhino wading through a pool, she was happy to ramble about singing to her baby doll. Clearly I hadn’t learned my lesson.
Then it happened again at the Desert Botanic Garden. The prospect of a butterfly pavilion was nothing compared to the patch of rocky sand she discovered while I was purchasing our tickets. Thankfully, we did make it to the butterflies, but we also made it back to dig around in the sand as people entered and exited the garden. I tried not to look at them.
Not everything was a miss. The stingray touch tank was a delight. The sky ride was notable. The safari tram was neat. The camel ride was cool. The carousel was nice.
That’s at least my interpretation of Martha’s reaction to each of these experiences, which wasn’t quite what I expected. I wanted more, “Wow!” But toddler brains are tricky—enigmas even. Only God knows how they tick and what will stick.
That’s at least my interpretation of Martha’s reaction to each of these experiences, which wasn’t quite what I expected. I wanted more, “Wow!” But toddler brains are tricky—enigmas even. Only God knows how they tick and what will stick.
Minor Reflections on a Major Quote
While I’m not sure what was successful in leaving an impression, this endeavor was at least successful in getting me to question myself. As I thought on it, I kept coming back to a quote from C. S. Lewis in his now-famous sermon The Weight of Glory:
If we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of rewards promised in the Gospels, it would seem that our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at sea. We are far too easily pleased.
How fitting. Martha’s sand pile equates to the mud pie. Either she can’t imagine the holiday experiences I offer or doesn’t want to. It’s likely the former—she just doesn’t get it yet, but I trust this will change with age and training.
The problem that Lewis so astutely observes is that we’re overly passionate about the wrong things and not nearly passionate enough about the right things. Infinite joy is offered to us, but we insist on finite joys instead.
We make temporal things ultimate things all the time. Drink, sex, and ambition are good gifts from God, but they are terrible masters. Still, we raise up our idols.
That’s the straightforward application. But I can’t close out this post quite yet. There’s a more subtle application here for me to learn.
Joyless on Both Ends
Our obsession with the gifts rather than the Giver is a result of our sin, and it is a curse—doubly so. It doesn’t just blind us to the greatest of pleasures; it also blinds us to the least of pleasures.
I realized that it wasn’t Martha who was in the wrong, I was. I was the one playing with mud pies. They were the experiences I was so determined to give Martha. Instead of missing eternal joy, I was missing the joys of the moment.
As I tried to make the most of our time, the little delights in our day were passing me by. All the simple wonders that Martha so keenly observed were lost on me. Instead of being too easily pleased, I was not nearly easily pleased enough. The truth is, I will have more fond memories of playing in the sand with Martha than I will of rushing off to the butterfly pavilion.
It doesn’t matter the mud pie—when we have the wrong focus, we don’t just miss the bullseye; we miss the entire target. We will be doubly cursed. We will never reach for what we’re offered (infinite joy) and never be content with what we have (finite joys). Thankfully, Jesus Christ breaks this curse. Through faith in Him we receive the blessing of the path of life, fullness of joy, and pleasure forevermore (Jn. 14:6; Ps. 16:11).
We’re not made for mere trifles. Proper perspective results in us laying these aside and running for the prize (Heb. 12:1; 1 Cor. 9:24). Proper perspective also means that mere trifles remind us what we are made for: glory.
I'll close with this quote from Mere Christianity. C. S. Lewis always puts it so well:
I realized that it wasn’t Martha who was in the wrong, I was. I was the one playing with mud pies. They were the experiences I was so determined to give Martha. Instead of missing eternal joy, I was missing the joys of the moment.
As I tried to make the most of our time, the little delights in our day were passing me by. All the simple wonders that Martha so keenly observed were lost on me. Instead of being too easily pleased, I was not nearly easily pleased enough. The truth is, I will have more fond memories of playing in the sand with Martha than I will of rushing off to the butterfly pavilion.
It doesn’t matter the mud pie—when we have the wrong focus, we don’t just miss the bullseye; we miss the entire target. We will be doubly cursed. We will never reach for what we’re offered (infinite joy) and never be content with what we have (finite joys). Thankfully, Jesus Christ breaks this curse. Through faith in Him we receive the blessing of the path of life, fullness of joy, and pleasure forevermore (Jn. 14:6; Ps. 16:11).
We’re not made for mere trifles. Proper perspective results in us laying these aside and running for the prize (Heb. 12:1; 1 Cor. 9:24). Proper perspective also means that mere trifles remind us what we are made for: glory.
I'll close with this quote from Mere Christianity. C. S. Lewis always puts it so well:
The Christian says, “Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world. If none of my earthly pleasures satisfy it, that does not prove that the universe is a fraud. Probably earthly pleasures were never meant to satisfy it, but only to arouse it, to suggest the real thing. If that is so, I must take care, on the one hand, never to despise, or be unthankful for, these earthly blessings, and on the other, never to mistake them for the something else of which they are only a kind of copy, or echo, or mirage. I must keep alive in myself the desire for my true country, which I shall not find till after death; I must never let it get snowed under or turned aside; I must make it the main object of life to press on to that other country and to help others to do the same.”