Of Peanut Butter, Critical Reviews, and Tuning In

I fixed a peanut butter sandwich for lunch today, and thought of "Chip" as I often do when I get out the Jif or Skippy jar. Chip was perhaps seven years old when his mother went in one evening to kiss him goodnight. "Mmmm," he murmured as she bent over him. "Mommy, you smell so good! Just like peanut butter." Peanut butter would probably not have been her fragrance of choice, but then, Chip would not have even noticed a flowery scent or the most expensive luxury perfume. He was tuned in to peanut butter.

I am a little irritated when a performance that I thought was absolutely wonderful is reviewed by the critic in what seems like condescending terms. And conversely, it's hard for me to understand the high praise a book receives when I am not able to slog through it! I know what sounds good to my own ears and what I am ready to absorb from a book, and I am tuned in to that.

Sometimes we take too seriously our personal preferences. Maybe we wouldn't dare say it, but we think,

"You watch that TV show? That's a bunch of foolishness."

"You play golf every weekend? What a waste of time."

"You paid how much?" (with raised eyebrows). "It's not worth that."

"I can't stand to listen to that –" (whatever word is appropriate to your vocabulary).

Let's consider our preferences in regard to our worship community. Somehow, when our likes and dislikes attend church, we are apt to give them an aura of rightness, or even holiness!

"It's too bad that our young people are . . ." (whatever isn't like what we were)

"The music is just . . ."

"The new translations of the Bible are . . ."

"I wish the Pastor would . . ."

"I was so surprised that . . ."

"Things are just so different." (Sigh)

Is it possible that some of our criteria for deciding what is appropriate or necessary or good could be simply our preferences, cherished as those might be? The older we are—once we get past teen years—the more experience we acquire in ordering our personal world. We get tuned in to what we like. Misunderstanding and even dissension arise when we insist that those preferences, opinions, and ideals are the standard to which others must conform. We have to let others tune in to their own priorities.

Even Chip knew that. He liked the smell of peanut butter, but he didn't expect Mom to dab it on her wrists before going out for the evening.

MaryMartha