Hypothetical Soapbox

Let's pretend that someone gifts me with a bar of soap the size of my Jeep Liberty. I wouldn't ask the brand. I wouldn't ask the scent. I wouldn't even ask how they transported or found such a colossal slab of cleanliness; instead, I would pull out my Victorinox pocket-knife and carve the soap into a sturdy box. Then I would flip that box over in the city square, gather soap chips, and mash them into a reference upon the side of the box: Ephesians 5.

"But among you there must not be... ⁴ ...obscenity, foolish talk or coarse joking, which are out of place, but rather thanksgiving."



I would coax my inner extrovert to step upon this unique artwork and deliver a speech. This topic is important to her and the soap is passion-scented. She would clear her throat, plant her feet, and say something like this:

I hate crude-joking. I hate obscenity. I hate coarse comments. In fact, "hate" is too tame--loathe would be more appropriate. Detest. Abhor. Despise. Excessive vulgarity makes me angry and physically ill. It drives me to do impulsive things like blog about it, like ditch studying to internally rage about it, like abandon sleep to scratch thoughts on sticky notes.

"Follow God’s example, therefore, as dearly loved children ² and walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." (Eph. 5:1-2)

I do not feel loved when I'm the recipient of a coarse comment. I do not smell the fragrance of Christ when the topic of humor is something I fight daily to keep out of my thoughts. Our mindset is an hourly battle. Why do we choose to turn our backs on the enemy's sword just for the sake of a forced laugh? What makes crude joking funny? Are we laughing at the comment or the fact it's inappropriate and someone dared to voice it?

“Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.” (Philippians 4:8)

Oh what an impossible task that remains dear to my heart. I wish, desperately, that I could do this on a consistent basis. Instead, I cherish the few seconds of true, noble, just, pure, lovely, good, virtuous, praiseworthy meditation I manage to squeeze into a single week...if I'm diligent.
It. Is. Hard.
And it's even harder when brothers and sisters (let alone non-family members) engage in active attack against the protective walls I rebuild every morning and afternoon. When I don't join in, I'm a "stick-in-the-mud". If it takes me a second to "get" a joke, I'm viewed as 'innocent'--a word used interchangeably with "ignorant" and "idiot".
No one wants to be innocent these days--it's seen as shameful, pathetic, young, naive, and dumb. Why such an aversion to purifying our hearts and minds? It's the hardest battle anyone could undertake, yet we ridicule those who dare to step out.

John Reuben's song, The Boy vs. the Cynic, contains lyrics that strike the core of a problem in today's mindset:

"Don't mistake innocence for ignorance,
Don't mistake purity for inexperience,
Don't mistake humility for weakness,
I sincerely mean this."

Innocence, purity, and humility are things to gain. They are not three traits that result from lack of knowledge, experience, or strength. They are the bronze, silver, and gold of the spiritual Olympics. All of us want to be champions, so why do we fight so hard to be mediocre?

My inner extrovert could go on, but the soapbox is growing soggy from her foot-stamping. Chances are, this soapbox will join the many others I have in storage, waiting to emerge for another bout of passion. Sometimes I sneak bubbles from each one into my pockets to pop on unsuspecting listeners. They are precious to me and I pray everyone would listen to their messages and inhale their scents with an open mind and heart. May they be the aroma of Christ.

I've never expected myself to change the world, but if I could I think I'd start with this hypothetical soapbox.

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