I’ve caught myself praying to idols in direct, just like the people of prophet Habakkuk's time:
“What sorrow awaits you who say to wooden idols, ‘Wake up and save us!’ To speechless stone images you say, ‘Rise up and teach us!’ Can an idol tell you what to do? They may be overlaid with gold and silver, but they are lifeless inside. But the Lord is in his holy Temple. Let all the earth be silent before him,” (Habakkuk 2.19-20 NLT).
I’m often in a hurry and crowd too much activity into my day. I have tried to haul a heavy briefcase in one hand and balance a coffee cup in the other, while attempting to open an uncooperative door with my elbow. The cell phone seems to ring in moments like these. I grope in the general direction of the ring tone, drop my briefcase, spill my coffee, scrape my shoes on the door frame, and, of course, miss the call.
Then, of course, I curse at my phone. Who am I talking to? When I say “damn it,” who is the “it” I am damning? In younger years, I would actually yell at, kick, throw, or break an inanimate object. I played the role of God, directing my unholy wrath at a material thing. I decided the object of my anger was out to get me and thereby empowered it with personality and purpose. I declared war on a “lifeless” piece of “gold and silver” or plastic, wood, and iron. What was I thinking? Was I thinking?
