In the Fridge

Note: This post is not remotely about what's in my fridge, and it's only tangentially related to butter. But if you really want to see what's in my fridge, scroll on down to the end. Meanwhile, here is a reflection I had based on the verses from Proverbs below.

 “If you play the fool and exalt yourself,
    or if you plan evil,
    clap your hand over your mouth!
For as churning cream produces butter,
    and as twisting the nose produces blood,
    so stirring up anger produces strife.” (Proverbs 30:32-33)

I think I've been "exalting myself" a lot lately. It all happens on Facebook. If I read a post by someone I don't like, I'll immediately notice the typos (or maybe the just-plain-bad writing) and feel superior. What an idiot--they don't even know how to use commas! Or I'll roll my eyes when someone shares something that implies they've been mindlessly swept up in the spirit of the age--whether it's the woke-social-justice spirit, the left-wing-conspiracy spirit, or something else. I'll feel particularly holy when I see a Christian friend jumping into the mud-pit with the scoffers and mockers that so abound on social media. It's only later that I realize that, with my disdainful "above-all-that" attitude, I'm no better than they are.

I think of the phrase "stirring up anger." Maybe there's just a little anger, or arrogance, or disdain. But then we stir it. We tell off people in our minds, giving them just what they deserve, silently and secretly. We judge this person for their political beliefs, and we judge that person for judging other people for their political beliefs. And we stir the anger.

It seems harmless when it's all safe inside our heads, doesn't it? I mean, we're not actually telling people that we're angry or annoyed; we're keeping it to ourselves.

But the anger is stirring all the while.

And then that anger, that mildly condescending spirit, that (admittedly fun) little habit of judging people for the wrong reasons, transforms. Like cream into butter. And we don't even realize the transformation, because it was just cream when we started stirring it. But then it comes out as a snide comment on Facebook. Or a series of F-bombs yelled when dinner burns. Or a cruel word to a child. 

Or it doesn't come out at all. It may just remain inside, churning into something wholly new, deflating our souls, eating us alive.

Lately (actually after a conversation with my co-blogger), I realized that my Facebook use has been stirring up anger for me. I don't generally feel angry, disdainful, judgmental. But when I open Facebook? All those latent feelings start to stir. Reading the posts, the shares, and the comments, I scoff inwardly at stupid, gullible, or un-self-disciplined people are. I've actually checked the pages of people I don't like, just so I could scoff.

I don't like the person that I'm becoming on Facebook. It's not a reflection of Christ at all. It doesn't matter that no one else sees that distorted, deformed reflection; I see it, and God sees it. I think with social media, it's easy to stay quiet, and look innocuous on the outside, and to fool ourselves (and others) into thinking that's what we are on the inside.

So it was time to take a break. I deactivated my Facebook account (because it's my biggest temptation) and removed Twitter app from my phone. (I'm not on Twitter much anyway, but when I am there, it's usually through my phone.) I've missed the good things of Facebook--my friend Jennie's "Where's Gizmo" posts, Mary's daily Bible verses, Falz's flower pictures. I've also missed the bad, a little bit. Yes, I have missed the rush that comes with feeling superior or "above" other people. I've missed the fun of silent scoffing.

I don't think this will be a permanent sabbatical from Facebook, but maybe it will. I honestly haven't felt the "good" effects yet, but I trust that the slow stirring of that anger will subside. And that trust is a good start.

Scout and I bake often, so we always keep at least two boxes of unsalted butter in the fridge.