When Little Gets Big, the Cuteness Wears Off

Have you noticed that just about everything in miniature is “cute”? I love those model train displays where crafty people have created little villages and towns around which the tiny trains travel, often passing through miniature mountains and hillsides. Cute. When I was a boy, I enjoyed playing with my little green soldiers (ala “Toy Story”) and my Fort Apache cowboy and Indian set. Looking back, I’d call them “cute.”

Whenever my wife leads me into a children’s clothing section of a store, she’ll pick up one of their tiny dresses or shirts or swimsuits and say, “Isn’t this cute?” Of course it’s cute. It’s little. 

Baby tigers and elephants are cute, as are baby wolves and grizzly bears, I suppose. Even though I’ve never seen baby piranhas, I suspect they’re cute, too. But I’d hate to be cooling off in the Amazon River and see those once-baby piranhas, now fully grown, swimming toward me. Their cute factor would be long forgotten when they decided to have me for lunch.

A radio commentator reminded me of this when she told the true story of a family that adopted a foot-long python as a pet. For a time the slithery reptile was a fun novelty, but then it grew into an adult more than 10 feet long. A teenaged member of the family was playing with the snake one day, which apparently was giving him what seemed like a friendly hug. Too late, he realized the serpent had coiled tightly around his body; the “hug” turned into a death grip that caused his suffocation.

This isn’t to indict people who choose to have exotic pets like snakes, even pythons. But these animals simply behave as natural instinct tells them. When tiny, they’re manageable; fully grown, they’re not. This gives us a metaphor for sin. When we first encounter sin in any of its countless forms, it might seem like fun. “What’s the harm?” 

We dabble with this or that little taboo. As a message on a church marquee I saw years ago read, “If sin wasn’t fun, we wouldn’t want to do it.” So we give it a try. Like everything else in life, however, sin doesn’t remain little and cute. It grows and ultimately shows what it really is, in all of its evil, destructive form.

James 1:15 describes this accurately, stating, “Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.” Kind of like the tiny, “harmless” python that grew into a powerful, life-stealing predator. The enticing little diversion has taken us down a devastating path we could never have imagined. “How did this happen?” we wonder, too late.

I’ve heard of well-respected Christian leaders who were discovered in adulterous affairs that started with just some friendly teasing, a pat on the shoulder, a little hug. Or people who were sucked into online pornography, their sin starting with just a casual “look” or two that turned into a dominating habit and dehumanizing behavior.

“Well, maybe that happened to someone else – but it would never happen to me!” we might say defensively. This is why the apostle Paul wrote to believers in the ancient city of Corinth – and to us – this warning: “So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall!” (1 Corinthians 10:12). Another translation says, “take heed.” In other words, be vigilant. 

Often when sin is exposed, the offenders go on the defensive, claiming, “But I couldn’t help it!” It’s reminiscent of comedian Flip Wilson’s old line through the character, “Geraldine”: “The devil made me do it!” Not so, say the Scriptures. The verse following the one above asserts, “No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it” (1 Corinthians 10:13).

The good news: The temptations we face every day are not unique. They’re experienced by many people just like us. And God will provide a “way of escape” so the temptations don’t need to morph into sin. The bad news: We will be tempted. Our job is to be wary of potential traps that lurk around us, those little enticements that wink at us and invite, “Come on, just give me a try.” That cute little “try” can introduce us to a big, bad world of hurt. 

Strength, in All of Its Weakness

Since the cardiac rehab center I used for the past 10 years closed, I’ve changed workout venues and undertaken a new fitness regimen. In the process, it’s caused me to think a lot about strength – what it is, and what it’s not.

Strength holds a lot of different meanings for folks. The word may cause us to think of the muscle-bound person that makes the free weights and weight machines in the gym cringe. Nations boast about military might, implying their enemies don’t dare try picking a fight. In sports, we often hear talk about “strength in numbers.” Businesses refer to “core competencies,” meaning their products, services and strategies that are the strongest.

I once heard a guy describe growing up in a female-dominated household. He said his mom was “strong as an acre of garlic.” (I’m not sure she was still alive to hear that description – but I do recall seeing him look over his shoulder as he said it.)

Bold criticism used to be defined as “strong statements,” but these days it seems everyone’s making comments that are bold, or brash, or bewildering. When everything that’s being said is “strong,” doesn’t that really mean that nothing is strong?

This classic photo of the RMS Titanic on the docks
of Southampton before its ill-fated voyage is an
historic example of weakness in strength.

Which provides a segue to my topic: Can strength become a weakness? We need look no further than the RMS Titanic, the supposed “unsinkable” passenger liner that came out a poor second in its encounter with an iceberg in the North Atlantic Ocean on April 15, 1912, costing more than 1,500 lives.

We have many biblical accounts of people weakened in moments of strength, including Samson, whose legendary strength seemed uncontainable – until he was seduced into revealing the source of his power. Strong and revered King David, called “a man after God’s heart,” caught a glimpse of a lovely young woman on a rooftop one evening, and his subsequent actions resulted in a series of tragic consequences.

More than one pastor has strongly asserted, “one area I will never fail is in the area of relationships,” only to leave the ministry in disgrace due to sexual sins. This is one reason the apostle Paul offered this word of caution: “So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall!” (1 Corinthians 10:12). Strengths can work to our benefit, but they can also lead to overconfidence, complacency, and self-destructive pride.

“The flip side of any strength is its weakness,” I once heard someone say. I’ve experienced that myself. Friends sometimes call me an encourager, but one of the greatest temptations I face is succumbing to discouragement. Just as coaches and managers in sports scout for weaknesses in strong opponents, maybe we need to “self-scout”’ to discern where our strengths might leave us vulnerable.

Looking at the converse of this is interesting. A weakness can actually become a strength – especially when we’re aware of it and deal with it appropriately: We can try to work on that area and strengthen it. We can strive to avoid situations where the weakness is exposed and can be exploited. Or better yet, turn to another source of strength.

The apostle Paul had been a proud, militant religious leader, persecuting and seeking to annihilate followers of Jesus Christ. However, after his life-changing meeting with Christ on the road to Damascus, the apostle recognized the weakness of his zeal and “strength” in opposing Him. He wrote about a “thorn in the flesh” that plagued him the rest of his life, an undisclosed affliction that ensured his humility.

Paul said three times he pleaded with God to remove the “thorn,” until he realized it was a blessing and not a curse. “…he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:8-10).

Seems to me what Jesus really wants is not followers who flex their own muscle and resolve, but ones so in tune with their weakness and insufficiency that they constantly call upon Christ to empower them to do whatever He calls them to do.

As Paul wrote a bit earlier, “If I must boast, I will boast of the things that show my weakness” (2 Corinthians 11:30). Maybe if we become weak enough, we’ll see God exerting His strength through us in ways we could never have imagined.

Integrity, Like Pregnancy, Is All Or Nothing

Much of life we perceive in 50 shades of gray, so to speak. It all depends on your point of view. But some things are stark black and white. Like being pregnant. You can’t be “a little bit pregnant.” A woman either is – or she’s not. It’s the same with integrity. One can’t have “a little bit of integrity.” It’s pretty much all or nothing.

Once again the thorny issue of integrity has popped up, thrust into the spotlight by a figure in the public eye. This time, instead of a football coach or politician, it was NBC News anchor Brian Williams, an admired member of the national media, who “earned” the spotlight of scrutiny.

Information surfaced disputing Williams’ story of having been aboard a military helicopter in Iraq that was struck by a rocket-propelled grenade in 2003, a report that had seemed to grow over the years. Confronted by eyewitness accounts debunking his claim, Williams admitted “a mistake in recalling the events.” NBC News, faced with an assault to both Williams’ and its own credibility, suspended him for “misrepresenting the facts.”

Even a tiny crack can be the start of a spoiled egg,
a sinking ship, or a shattered reputation.

Another example of the strength – and fragility – of integrity. We can spend our lives building a reputation for integrity, and this can serve us well. But it can all be destroyed in a moment, even by a isolated occasion of misjudgment or misbehavior.

But why should someone who has been trusted for years and years suddenly have that swept away by a lapse in honesty? Maybe it’s not fair – but that’s the way it is.

Whether you’re a media star, business leader, educator, pastor, police officer, parent or a spouse, trust is not optional to the “job description.” It’s essential, non-negotiable. If someone were to put a drop of poison in your favorite beverage, you wouldn’t want to drink it even though the poison would be only an infinitesimal percentage of its volume. In a similar way, a tiny bit of deceit can spoil a lifetime of trust and confidence.

That’s why I’m so impressed by the wisdom of the Bible. It tells it like it is, even though we often don’t like what it says. For instance, “The man of integrity walks securely, but he who takes crooked paths will be found out” (Proverbs 10:9). Another passage underscores the point: “The integrity of the upright guides them, but the unfaithful will be destroyed by their duplicity” (Proverbs 11:3).

Just as a tiny crack can cause a ship to sink, even a small act of deception can bring about the destruction of one’s once-sterling reputation.

I don’t know how the rest of the Brian Williams saga will play out. Some might ask, isn’t it harsh to condemn a man for distorting the truth on such a seemingly inconsequential matter? Shouldn’t he be forgiven?

Yes, forgiveness certainly could be warranted. As we so often hear, nobody’s perfect. But it’s also important to recognize our actions – good and bad – have consequences. When a person is in a position of public trust, as someone like Williams has been, there are expectations, even demands, for retaining that trust. Once that is compromised, it’s not easily regained.

But as someone wisely said, when we point a finger at someone else, the other fingers are pointed toward us. Rather than looking down our noses, reveling in the quandary resulting from someone else’s moral or ethical misdeeds, we need to remember we’re all only one selfish, thoughtless, reckless act away from a similar plight. As the Bible reminds us, “So if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall!” (1 Corinthians 10:12).