One of the questions we’re asked frequently by Americans is, “Are you fluent in Japanese?” After living 30-plus years in Japan, I would hope so.
But the truth of the matter is that fluency fluctuates wildly depending upon the subject matter. Those subjects that I know well make me appear to be fluent; others leave me so completely in the dark and so unable to speak, participate, or understand a conversation that I must appear to others to be blind and deaf—certainly not fluent. But I get along well enough. In my own brand of fluency.
Consequently, in coming back to America for this time of medical treatment, I’ll admit I was looking forward to watching television in English. Ah! Kick back and enjoy while understanding without straining. And there were several crime dramas that fascinated me. Although I’ve never watched much TV, I was intending to acclimate back to life in the United States in part through television. Now I know the truth: “enjoy” and “television” are opposite words and should never appear in the same sentence.
One evening I nestled into the recliner and turned on the TV, eager to watch a drama that had been advertised. Although I’d seen only infrequently, I remembered that it wasn’t overly graphic in depicting crime scenes; much was left to the imagination. While enjoying the drama of solving an intriguing crime story, I don’t like blood, guts, and violence, so that was great for me. Only it wasn’t great. I spent the whole hour shivering with tension and dread. I wish I’d turned off the TV. Instead, I watched until the troubling end, following which I headed for bed.
Big mistake. That night I tossed and turned and wrestled, perhaps with the devil himself. It was the worst night I can ever remember. In the morning, I awoke feeling defeated, pessimistic, afraid, worried, and definitely not rested or refreshed mentally or physically, either. I was a prisoner in a dark, deep cloud from which I could not escape, no matter how I tried.
Although I fought it, the negativism continued throughout the day. Mid-afternoon, as I cried out to the Lord for relief from the battle of doubt and pessimism, God reminded me of Paul’s admonition in Philippians 4:8: “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”
Suddenly it all made sense. These instructions on good living weren’t given just to be restrictive and because God has no sense of adventure and is a stick in the mud. They (and all the mandates and advice in the Bible) were given to protect us for they are the keys to our freedom rather than to our imprisonment.
As I contemplated this quite obvious truth that somehow had never spoken to me quite this way before, I remembered an illustration author Randy Alcorn makes in his excellent little book, The Purity Principle. He describes a winding road that runs dangerously close to the edge of a steep precipice in the mountains. Because of the risk, there are many sturdy guard rails lining the road, especially at the curves. Alcorn depicts a scene where a car collides with the rail and then asks the reader this question: Do you suppose that when the driver gets out to inspect the damage, he curses the guard rail for scraping up the side of his vehicle? No! Instead, as he looks down the mountainside that is littered with other wreckage, he gives thanks to God for the guardrail that saved him from what would have been the same tragic fate.
I’ll not forget Alcorn’s illustration. God’s instructions are wise and intended for our good, and they relate to our whole lives—even the shows we watch on television.
By the way, I’ve been sleeping like a baby recently.
But the truth of the matter is that fluency fluctuates wildly depending upon the subject matter. Those subjects that I know well make me appear to be fluent; others leave me so completely in the dark and so unable to speak, participate, or understand a conversation that I must appear to others to be blind and deaf—certainly not fluent. But I get along well enough. In my own brand of fluency.
Consequently, in coming back to America for this time of medical treatment, I’ll admit I was looking forward to watching television in English. Ah! Kick back and enjoy while understanding without straining. And there were several crime dramas that fascinated me. Although I’ve never watched much TV, I was intending to acclimate back to life in the United States in part through television. Now I know the truth: “enjoy” and “television” are opposite words and should never appear in the same sentence.
One evening I nestled into the recliner and turned on the TV, eager to watch a drama that had been advertised. Although I’d seen only infrequently, I remembered that it wasn’t overly graphic in depicting crime scenes; much was left to the imagination. While enjoying the drama of solving an intriguing crime story, I don’t like blood, guts, and violence, so that was great for me. Only it wasn’t great. I spent the whole hour shivering with tension and dread. I wish I’d turned off the TV. Instead, I watched until the troubling end, following which I headed for bed.
Big mistake. That night I tossed and turned and wrestled, perhaps with the devil himself. It was the worst night I can ever remember. In the morning, I awoke feeling defeated, pessimistic, afraid, worried, and definitely not rested or refreshed mentally or physically, either. I was a prisoner in a dark, deep cloud from which I could not escape, no matter how I tried.
Although I fought it, the negativism continued throughout the day. Mid-afternoon, as I cried out to the Lord for relief from the battle of doubt and pessimism, God reminded me of Paul’s admonition in Philippians 4:8: “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”
Suddenly it all made sense. These instructions on good living weren’t given just to be restrictive and because God has no sense of adventure and is a stick in the mud. They (and all the mandates and advice in the Bible) were given to protect us for they are the keys to our freedom rather than to our imprisonment.
As I contemplated this quite obvious truth that somehow had never spoken to me quite this way before, I remembered an illustration author Randy Alcorn makes in his excellent little book, The Purity Principle. He describes a winding road that runs dangerously close to the edge of a steep precipice in the mountains. Because of the risk, there are many sturdy guard rails lining the road, especially at the curves. Alcorn depicts a scene where a car collides with the rail and then asks the reader this question: Do you suppose that when the driver gets out to inspect the damage, he curses the guard rail for scraping up the side of his vehicle? No! Instead, as he looks down the mountainside that is littered with other wreckage, he gives thanks to God for the guardrail that saved him from what would have been the same tragic fate.
I’ll not forget Alcorn’s illustration. God’s instructions are wise and intended for our good, and they relate to our whole lives—even the shows we watch on television.
By the way, I’ve been sleeping like a baby recently.
