Let me ask
you a question. If you knew your oatmeal
was laced with arsenic, would you continue to eat it? That may seem too loaded a question, so let
me put this to you a different way. If
you found out kale was actually as unhealthful as high fructose corn syrup, do
you think people would continue to eat it as we do now?
If we really
thought about it, the logical next step would be to discontinue eating it.
Now look at
the same topic again from a different vantage point. When someone repeatedly drinks too much, they’re
said to be addicted. This carries the
threat of bad health and death from complications. The same goes for smoking. The same goes for any behavior that can be dubbed
addictive. These are widely accepted
precepts.
Next I’ll
turn your attention to the idea of entertainment. Music.
Books. Games. Movies.
These are meant to engineer “fun.”
They facilitate “escapism.” And
me—well, I’m a creative type who loves to encourage my imagination. Imagination is how I get those deep thoughts
churning for the writing I love so well.
I’ve got a doctor’s excuse, right?
And if this escapism is actually killing my soul?
Oh, we’re not
supposed to think in terms like that. We
must keep things light, fluffy, and as full of substance as cotton candy. But cotton candy rots our teeth, which are
designed to slice through meat and break down vegetables. I’m probably getting too esoteric, so I’ll
break it down in blunt terms.
Think of a
time when you watched a movie right before going to bed and had a dream with
some of the same ingredients as the movie.
(For me, a recent example was dreaming about being operated on after a House marathon.) The escapism lingered in my mind. It affected me even after the fun was over.
People ask me
all the time: “Why no R-rated movies?” “Why don’t you listen to secular music?” And you know, sometimes, I don’t feel like I
have a solid reason. Recently, however,
my resolve was renewed.
I read a book
that has been lauded for about 20 years; it’s currently enjoying success on a
cable mini-series. It was so highly
touted that I thought I’d give the author a shot. Being an 800-page epic, I knew it would keep
me occupied for a while. The first 200
pages were slow going, but things got intriguing after that. Then, I started noticing something: the negative, bad events in the story
lingered in my mind like a trauma that happened to me. Scenes echoed in my head like the words of a
top-40 song in department stores. It
felt like everywhere I turned my thoughts led back to that same garbage.
I felt like I
needed to spring-clean my mind.
Some ask, why
no R-rated movies? Because I can’t unsee
what I’ve seen. Because I can’t put my
brain in a bath and Calgon-away the memories of something that injures my
humanity. Because I have been down that
road before, and I know it doesn’t lead anywhere good. Scattered from beginning to the end of the
Bible, I read that the faithful will see God’s face… I want that.
Some ask, why
no secular music? Because words have
power. Words I say and words I
hear. If Mark Twain could live a month
on a good compliment and I’m charged with speaking life to people around me, I
can’t intentionally pour a deadly poison in someone’s ear. Because the ear tests words the way the
tongue tastes food (Job 12:11).
Some say, why
not continue if you have already begun?
Because I will not continue to eat arsenic-laced oatmeal. No, I cannot put my mind in a bath and
receive a convenient case of amnesia.
But Jesus can cleanse me (i.e. Luke 17).
When I call His name and ask Him to wash away the filth I invited into
my mind, my mouth, my life, He washes me.
Just like He did with the lepers along the road. He says the word, and it’s done.
“Go. The opposite direction you were going before.”
When I get
whirled around and disoriented. When I
start walking on the old road on purpose.
He meets me and says, “Go. The
opposite direction you were going before" (i.e. Prov. 24:16).
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