Is This Really Happening This Often?
In a moment of lesser intellect, I turned on the TV to The Maury Povich Show. Yet again, people were getting paternity and DNA tested. It seems that a great percentage of our populace is running around searching for their baby mommas and daddies in hopes of yelling at them on syndicated television after they claim, “I ain’t never sleep wit dat hoe.”
The show titles are getting more and more ridiculous: “I had a one night stand with your brother and he may be the father;” “I’ve been his dad for 35 years, but I may not be his father;” and my favorite, “I’ve tested 17 men and still can’t find the father.”
Like a Joel Osteen sermon, I have to watch just for a little bit 1) because my naughty curiosity is peaked, and 2) I want to shake every person and tell them that a) it can’t be that hard to figure out who the father is and b) get off TV and in school or at work, you idiot excuse for a parent.
Obviously, conflict makes good TV and good TV makes money, thus, Maury can rest assured knowing that wherever there is lineage confusion, he will have viewers. I’m not asking my readers to stop watching Maury (and I’m not asking you to begin if you don’t). However, I think Maury is a legitimate stopping point as we examine the honesty of our Christianity. I’m willing to bet that most of us are somewhere in between Jerry Springer (downright blasphemous theatrics with no resolution) and Osteen (hokey happy smiley talking with no problems). Most of us, like baby mommas, are looking for something, and we’re scared we may never find it. Or maybe we’re scared that we will.
I believe that all of humanity is on a great search. This search has taken humanity to the heights of the cosmos and human intellect and to the depths of genocide and war. The search for belonging, community, love, acceptance, peace and rest has us all on edge sometimes. We fear getting lost, left behind, sidetracked, misguided and betrayed. But the search continues.
Our fears try to falsely paralyze us into quitting. Or rather into settling. We settle for the security of the shoreline when we were meant to be navigating the uncertainty of the waves. We buy into the career, life, and routine that is sold to us, thinking it is our ultimate destination, all we were made for, and all we can ever hope to be. We fill the nagging questions within us by having children, buying pets, filling our houses and going on trips. Instead of trying to find answers, we just stop asking questions.
But if Maury’s guests can teach us anything, it is the perseverance of the quest. There cannot be an end until we really have the answers our souls having been dying – no, living – to find. We must first admit that the answer might scare us. Maybe the community we’re called to is richer or poorer or blacker or whiter than we want. Maybe we must extend grace to someone our courts deem unworthy of it. Maybe we find out that the search is all there is – that God is big enough to transcend the searches that happen here and in India and in Egypt and in Israel. Maybe the only answer to our deepest, secret question is just another question.
It’s easy to quit because it’s easy to go on Springer – you just have to want to yell answers. But to get on Maury, you have to be vulnerable enough to ask questions.
The show titles are getting more and more ridiculous: “I had a one night stand with your brother and he may be the father;” “I’ve been his dad for 35 years, but I may not be his father;” and my favorite, “I’ve tested 17 men and still can’t find the father.”
Like a Joel Osteen sermon, I have to watch just for a little bit 1) because my naughty curiosity is peaked, and 2) I want to shake every person and tell them that a) it can’t be that hard to figure out who the father is and b) get off TV and in school or at work, you idiot excuse for a parent.
Obviously, conflict makes good TV and good TV makes money, thus, Maury can rest assured knowing that wherever there is lineage confusion, he will have viewers. I’m not asking my readers to stop watching Maury (and I’m not asking you to begin if you don’t). However, I think Maury is a legitimate stopping point as we examine the honesty of our Christianity. I’m willing to bet that most of us are somewhere in between Jerry Springer (downright blasphemous theatrics with no resolution) and Osteen (hokey happy smiley talking with no problems). Most of us, like baby mommas, are looking for something, and we’re scared we may never find it. Or maybe we’re scared that we will.
I believe that all of humanity is on a great search. This search has taken humanity to the heights of the cosmos and human intellect and to the depths of genocide and war. The search for belonging, community, love, acceptance, peace and rest has us all on edge sometimes. We fear getting lost, left behind, sidetracked, misguided and betrayed. But the search continues.
Our fears try to falsely paralyze us into quitting. Or rather into settling. We settle for the security of the shoreline when we were meant to be navigating the uncertainty of the waves. We buy into the career, life, and routine that is sold to us, thinking it is our ultimate destination, all we were made for, and all we can ever hope to be. We fill the nagging questions within us by having children, buying pets, filling our houses and going on trips. Instead of trying to find answers, we just stop asking questions.
But if Maury’s guests can teach us anything, it is the perseverance of the quest. There cannot be an end until we really have the answers our souls having been dying – no, living – to find. We must first admit that the answer might scare us. Maybe the community we’re called to is richer or poorer or blacker or whiter than we want. Maybe we must extend grace to someone our courts deem unworthy of it. Maybe we find out that the search is all there is – that God is big enough to transcend the searches that happen here and in India and in Egypt and in Israel. Maybe the only answer to our deepest, secret question is just another question.
It’s easy to quit because it’s easy to go on Springer – you just have to want to yell answers. But to get on Maury, you have to be vulnerable enough to ask questions.
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