The Real Zapper

"The way a sinful person thinks leads to death.

But the mind controlled by the Spirit brings life and peace."

Romans 8:6

     Yesterday, I heard my co-worker and friend, Valarie, laughing at something on her computer. Not wanting to miss out, I turned to read about a man who bought his wife the anniversary gift every wife needs: a taser gun to protect herself. Please read his story for yourself (minus a few choice words I felt would be innappropriate for the purpose of this blog): 

What I came across was a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short lived, with no long-term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety and every woman needs something to protect herself with, right??

WAY TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing!

I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed it against a metal surface at the same time; I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. AWESOME!!!

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what that burn spot is on the face of the microwave.

Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two triple-A batteries, right?

There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. Am I wrong?

So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and taser in the other. The directions said that a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would purportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water.  Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the batteries.

All the while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumference; pretty cute really and (loaded with two itsy, bitsy triple-A batteries) thinking to myself, 'no possible way!'

What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best...?

I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side as if to say, 'don't do it dummy,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny little ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and . .

I'm pretty sure Jessie Ventura ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs?

The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living room.

A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape.  My bent reading glasses were on the mantel of the fireplace.
The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh and both nipples were still twitching. My face felt like it had been shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88lbs. I had no control over the drooling. Apparently I pooped on myself, but was too numb to know for sure and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head which I believe came from my hair. I'm still looking for my testicles and I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return!!

P. S. My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it!  If you think education is difficult, try being stupid.'

Note: If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with a taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor..


Funny stuff, when it's about tasers, but I couldn't help applyng this story to sin.  Pride convinces us we can handle a "one second burst" of sin, remain in complete control, get over it, ask forgiveness, then move on as if it never happened.  However, many sins need only that one zap to take hold, lodge deep, and begin destruction.  Sin begins by disorienting us from Truth before dragging us down, down, down. 

It's the oldest story around: Good people make stupid mistakes. Godly people sin. God's people think they're safe enough to dally in the occasional "one second burst" of sin.  And before we know it, we're in a fetal position on the floor begging for mercy.

But here's the real zapper: 
     Even when we willfully do stupid things we know will bring no good;
          Even when we're lying in a painful heap of self-destruction;
               Even while we're paying deserved consequences for chosen sin;
                    Even when we refused the way out He provided;
God, Who is Love, is with us - not to say "I told you so," but to strenthen us in the safety of His Presence, to hold us as we pay the consequences, to bring us back into fellowship with Him, to bind our wounds, to forgive us, and to place us gently back on the Spirit path of peace and life.  We, like Peter who denied the Lord, need only to go to Him.  Or, we can foolishly keep zapping the life out of ourselves.

"God is our place of safety. He gives us strength. He is always there to help us in times of trouble.  The earth may fall apart. The mountains may fall into the middle of the sea. But we will not be afraid."  Psalm 46:1-2

Lord, God, we don't deserve Your great love when we're making right choices - but for You to love us when we're flailing in the sin we've chosen - God, we're humbled under the floorboards!  To be Love, to love us as You do and when You do is beyond our understanding. We're eager to point out others' mistakes and faults.  We nod self-righteously as others pay their consequences. Our pride leads us to overestimate our own willpower and to push wrong buttons we're sure we can handle.  Lord, forgive us and thank You for forgiving us time and again every day. Thank You for all the times You've called us and we've listened and avoided pain.  Thank You for the "way out" You provide for every temptation.  Thank You for the path of the Spirit that leads to life and peace. Help us see sin in its ugly fullness.  
In the Name of Jesus Who died for sinners, even as they spit in His Face

Liar, Liar, Pantsuit's On Fire!

“The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer fit to be called your son.’

“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattest calf and kill it. Let’s have a big dinner and celebrate. This son of mine was dead. And now he is alive again. He was lost. And now he is found.’"   Luke 15:21-24

     I was a third-grader the first time I recognized God's grace pouring over and through "such a wretch" as I.  Pantsuits were the newest and neatest little outfits a girl could have and I didn't own one. Audrey did, though. Angelic Audrey always seemed to have what caught our teacher's eye and approval.  She was tiny and had Shirley Temple curls, a little purse that held tissues and a tube of Chapstick, and her mother was the PTA chairperson, wielding Audrey inexplicable power over teachers and administrators. 

   One Friday, Audrey showed up in a red pantsuit.  When I heard our sweet, beautiful teacher exclaim, "What an adorable pantsuit!"" as adorable Audrey twirled with an "I'm adored" glow, the green-eyed monster arose within my eight-year-old heart and I bit into the apple (a green one, I'm sure). Jealousy led to lying as I tapped my teacher on the arm to say, "I have a pantsuit (lie) - a blue one (lies, all lies) - it's at home and I'll wear it Monday (liar, liar, pantsuit's on fire!)."   My teacher smiled and said, "Oh, I can't wait to see it!" That's when the apple bit back. 

     Welcome to the longest bus ride in history.  The bumps in the road were nothing compared to the pounding I experienced sweating out my sin and my dilemma between Kennesaw Elementary and Melody Lane. Monday, hateful day, smothered me against the window as I contemplated the trap I had created.  Closing my eyes, I saw myself sneaking through the classroom door on Monday. But, my teacher would spot me with the eyes in the back of her head and run to me in eager anticipation. Then as the awful truth hit her that I wasn't wearing a pantsuit of any color, confusion and disappointment would cover her face and gradually turn to horror as she realized she had a liar in her class.  I would, of course, spend the rest of the school year under a table in the back of the room wearing a sign and probably a dunce hat. 

     What had I done? What could I do?

     I prayed.  "God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I lied. I'm sorry. Make her forget what I said. I'll never lie again, if You'll just make her forget what I said and don't let her ever say anything about a pantsuit."

     It never once occurred to me that God might have another way of dealing with His little liar. Never once.  My family bought clothes at the beginning of the school year, sometimes Christmas, Easter, and maybe for birthdays.  I limited God to my eight-year-old way of thinking and could never have imagined forgiveness with grace for such an outright sin. 

     When I arrived home, glum and weighted down, my mother seemed excited.  She escorted me to my room where a navy blue pantsuit lay across my bed.  My heart burst - with relief and gratitude.  Mama probably didn't know what to think about my reaction, since I enjoyed clothes but had never swooned over them. Did I say, "No, mother, I don't deserve this, for I have lied to my teacher and must suffer the consequences?"  No way! I was too young not to appreciate the gift, the grace God (so obviously God through my mother) had laid on my bed for me.

     The invisible God I went to church to worship; the bleeding Jesus on the cross; and the eerie Holy Ghost Who always watched me - all became the Friend of a most humble child that day. For the first time in my young life, I knew God wasn't out to get me and didn't delight in punishing His children. In fact, the God I fell in love with that day is the God Who goes beyond forgiving to pouring out blessing after blessing on His repentant, prodigal, lying children. 

     Don't be too mature, too sophisticated, too self-incriminating, too dignified, or too ridiculous not to take God's gifts when He gives them.  Just humbly swoop and swoon.

"Jesus said, “What I’m about to tell you is true. You need to change and become like little children. If you don’t, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven."  Luke 18:3