My Thermometer

I have, in a prominent place in my living room, a beautiful and interesting object—a Galileo (or Galilean) thermometer, so named for its inventor, Galileo Galilei, the Italian physicist, mathematician and astronomer. It consists of sealed glass cylinder containing a clear liquid (not water) with a "stacked" series of glass bulbs filled with different colored liquids for the attractive effect. Attached to the bulbs are metal disks, each varying in weight by an extremely small amount—less than a milligram, about like a grain of salt. As the liquid in the tube is warmed or cooled by the variation in room temperature, it decreases or increases in density, and the bulbs and their weights rise or sink accordingly. The approximate temperature is read from the engraved tag attached to the bulb which is floating in the gap between the top bulbs and the bottom ones, or is judged to be between the two stacks. Is that not ingenious?

I've heard many times that Christians must be like thermostats, not thermometers—setting the "temperature" of their surroundings rather than responding to them. But I propose that we are indeed to respond to our environment, not in some wishy-washy way, but as quietly and effectively as my thermometer. It's nice to think that could change the whole atmosphere of the place where we work or go to school or shop. While we certainly contribute to the total effect, most of us cannot greatly alter the circumstances. What we can do, however, is to be stable, dependable, trustworthy. We can be useful, helpful, and purposeful.

And maybe even beautiful and interesting.

MaryMartha