I cheat at Sudoku. Not on the computer where the wrong answer merely "boings away", letting me know I have 15 seconds to fix the problem. But when I use a pen. I do. Cheat. There. I admitted it.
On my latest return flight from Seattle I labored over the Sudoku puzzle in the Southwest Airlines magazine. Wrong answers frustrated me. When I discovered one, I'd scribble it out, leaving a blue spot in the box. Trying to figure out what number I wrote over the top of the scribble annoyed me even more. So I started checking the answer key before I wrote a number. Then I'd "accidentlly" notice a couple of other numbers to plug in. As I turned back to the puzzle, my eyes shifted left to right to see if I'd been caught. (Like anyone would care.) It's just that I don't want anyone to know when I cheat. Wrong image, don't you know?
Okay, I'm not good with small stuff. Working puzzles with more than 100 pieces is too taxing. Probably that's also why I'm not attracted to card games or chess--too much brain power requiring strategic planning. I get lazy and hunt for shortcuts.
This may also explain my periodic rebellion against routines. Such insignificant things in the big scheme of life, really. Routines are so daily. I find doing the same thing over and over tedious and unexciting. Not the least bit stimulating. Curious that a shy, introvert yearns for challenge and excitement, but I do. And I don't. Because there's a certain comfort in the familiar, the mundane, ho-hum, day-to-day sameness of life. So why do I tire of that sameness after a while? Why the inner conflict?
I don't know, but I identify with what the Apostle Paul wrote in Romans 7:15, "I do not understand what I do. For what I what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do."
Yup. I'm right there with you Paul. I don't understand it one little smidge. But I keep right on cheating.
Thinking this morning how the little things--necessary day-in-day-out things--build character. Big momentous stuff happen occasionally, replete with it's own vital life-lessons if I pay attention. But the constant stuff--morning quiet time, meditating on God's word, making sure I get enough sleep, regular consumption of nourishing food to maintain health, seeking balance, a consistent exercise regimen, making time for relationships--that's where I cheat, often seeking the easier, softer approach. Like going back to bed. Or hiding from life. Or camouflaging feelings in a thick wrapping of busyness.
Thing is, God is Lord of little things as well as big. The small stuff creates a mosaic of life. If I leave some out, the mosaic has gaps. To make a worthwhile pattern, I need every stone, every day. That's the way to harmony, beauty, peace, contentment, and even joy.
Luke 16:10, "Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much."
In my book, THE ROAD TO TERMINUS, George Stanton rails against the ordinary and mundane. For George, everthing must be top-notch, better than anyone else. God has to erode away everything he values until George lands in a position of humility where all he can do is look up and see the God who loves Him constantly and unconditionally.