Unpop Culture

When Shannon and I took our infant daughter to the ER last month, we didn’t plan on a week-long hospital stay. We didn’t plan on days of scary bouts of pertussis-induced apnea. We didn’t plan on getting snowed in at the hospital, nor on me coming down with food poisoning, nor on Shannon developing a sinus infection. It was a comedy of errors, and while we weren’t exactly laughing, we weren’t despairing either: God’s was at work in the midst of our suffering. During our stay in the hospital, we repeatedly had to suction Elanor’s nose out to keep it clear. Sometimes we used an electronic aspirator and sometimes we used a handheld bulb. Each time, Elanor protested the invasion of her sinuses with pitiable vehemence. It was obvious that she didn’t fully understand what was going on and didn’t appreciate the discomfort that came along with her treatments. And in these respects, she reminded me of myself: how I—and, I suspect, many people—relate to God. More specifically, she helpe...

So there I was, surrounded by church members, my pants wet, my blood boiling. This wasn’t what I needed—at least, that’s what I told myself. The morning had started innocently enough. Shannon and I arrived at our church building later than normal. Because of the pouring rain and the packed parking lot, I said I would drop Shannon off at the front and then go park and bring our Bibles and notebooks in. (After all, with an umbrella and a raincoat at my disposal, my trek across the parking lot wouldn’t be too bad.) Shannon didn’t want me lugging the books in the rain, so she grabbed them before heading into the building. I then parked near the back of the lot and reached for the umbrella. It wasn’t there. Not in the back seat…not in the front seat. Not anywhere. Shannon must have taken it inside with her. Okay. No big deal. I still had my raincoat, and thanks to my memory of a once-watched YouTube video , I had learned the trick to staying relatively dry while traveling ...