I purchased some apples the other day. Now, this is not something new. I purchase an apple or a few apples almost every day. I like apples. But they all have stickers on them now.
I remember the old, pre-sticker days when you just bought apples. The lady at the checkout counter was expected to know what kind they were and to bill you accordingly. As a child, I was always impressed with how they could tell apples apart.
Now, however, we are more organized, so we have stickers to tell the checkout person (not "checkout ladies" anymore) what kind of apple it is. Trouble is, someone has to put a sticker on the apples. Perhaps they use a machine, but I don't think so.
I don't think they use a machine because this morning, as with so many occasions, I removed the sticker from the apple to find a flaw underneath it. It is a nice looking apple, but under the sticker was a black spot that would have kept me from purchasing it if I had seen it earlier. The sticker covered up the bad spot entirely.
Everything, it seems, can have multiple uses. The purpose of the sticker is to inform the checkout person of the type of apple, but a sneaky person with a sticker can accomplish another task entirely. He or she can cover up a problem. He or she can cover up a bruise or a blemish that would make me put the apple down and choose another one.
I wonder how often I use such stickers in my life. How often do I cover up my weaknesses and failures with something that looks really innocent? I am afraid that I may be a lot better at choosing places to put stickers than I am at actually being the person I ought to be.
My short-term goal, after all, is often just to appear wise or perfect or mature or smart. I do not want to admit that I messed something up or failed some requirement. I want to make everything seem perfect for the people who count on me. I know the problem is there, but I don't want anyone else to know it is there.
But God knows it's there. The stickers don't fool God. The problem does not go away just because I put a sticker over it.
So, I will cut out the bad spot and eat the rest of the apple. The store won it's little game by getting me to buy the apple, but managed to make me more suspicious of it. I wonder how many people, over the years, have seen past my stickers and are more suspicious of me because I used them.
Deep down, I think I am afraid to know.
Apple, anyone?
I remember the old, pre-sticker days when you just bought apples. The lady at the checkout counter was expected to know what kind they were and to bill you accordingly. As a child, I was always impressed with how they could tell apples apart.
Now, however, we are more organized, so we have stickers to tell the checkout person (not "checkout ladies" anymore) what kind of apple it is. Trouble is, someone has to put a sticker on the apples. Perhaps they use a machine, but I don't think so.
I don't think they use a machine because this morning, as with so many occasions, I removed the sticker from the apple to find a flaw underneath it. It is a nice looking apple, but under the sticker was a black spot that would have kept me from purchasing it if I had seen it earlier. The sticker covered up the bad spot entirely.
Everything, it seems, can have multiple uses. The purpose of the sticker is to inform the checkout person of the type of apple, but a sneaky person with a sticker can accomplish another task entirely. He or she can cover up a problem. He or she can cover up a bruise or a blemish that would make me put the apple down and choose another one.
I wonder how often I use such stickers in my life. How often do I cover up my weaknesses and failures with something that looks really innocent? I am afraid that I may be a lot better at choosing places to put stickers than I am at actually being the person I ought to be.
My short-term goal, after all, is often just to appear wise or perfect or mature or smart. I do not want to admit that I messed something up or failed some requirement. I want to make everything seem perfect for the people who count on me. I know the problem is there, but I don't want anyone else to know it is there.
But God knows it's there. The stickers don't fool God. The problem does not go away just because I put a sticker over it.
So, I will cut out the bad spot and eat the rest of the apple. The store won it's little game by getting me to buy the apple, but managed to make me more suspicious of it. I wonder how many people, over the years, have seen past my stickers and are more suspicious of me because I used them.
Deep down, I think I am afraid to know.
Apple, anyone?