Have Your Tent Stolen

I went yard-sale hunting yesterday morning, and had a lot of fun. I almost bought a canoe...for no other reason than to see Vicki's face when I pulled up to the house. So I was on my way out the door (at the crack of dawn), got sidetracked by something really important, and then found myself reading from Jesus, Life Coach by Laurie Beth Jones. This chapter really spoke to me, so I thought I'd share it:


Recently, I had the pleasure of hearing Ray Anderson, founder of a textile mill in Georgia named Interface, speak to a group of business leaders in Santa Fe. He told the following story.

It seems that one day Sherlock Holmes and his assistant, Watson, went camping. As the night wore on, Sherlock woke up, leaned over, and asked Watson, “What do you see?” Watson responded, “Sherlock, I see the North Star, which has helped guide us to this spot. Beyond that I see the Big Dipper and the tail of Orion. I also can make out the edges of the Milky Way and know that there are universes expanding beyond that.”

Watson was about to continue his rapturous explanation when suddenly Sherlock elbowed him and hissed, “Watson, you idiot, someone has stolen our tent!”

Laughter rippled through the audience as the multiple real-life applications of this story became apparent. Watson was rhapsodizing about the beauty of the universe, and Sherlock the detective was concerned with the crime that made their new view possible.

Jesus once described himself as coming “like a thief in the night.” I love the idea of his coming to steal our tent - the tent of our limited perspective - the tent of our fragile and segmented understandings – the tent that we think is keeping us safe, but is really just keeping us from seeing the universe.

Like children huddled in a tent, we talk to each other in the light of our little flashlights, considering ourselves bold adventurers – but we haven’t even left our own backyard.

I wrote a chapter in Jesus in Blue Jeans regarding God’s impatience with “stiff necked” people. Stubbornness is first cousin to arrogance, and pride always precedes a fall. When we think that we know it all…when we refuse to try another way of doing things…when we are determined to remain inflexible and ignorant, we are doomed to failure.

Some time ago, I hosted a birthday party for a friend. When one of the guests arrived, she admitted that she was a little late because she couldn’t find her glasses. She laughed and said, “I finally just grabbed the closest pair I could find. I think these are my mother’s.” We all chuckled as she described how difficult it had been to drive over to the house, looking through lenses that belonged to somebody else.

How often do we just grab out parent’s glasses when we head out on a journey, and not use “new eyes” to view the world? I am continuously amazed and chagrined at how often we repeat our parents’ negative patterns. It is how culture is created, I suppose, and how one declines.

If only we would open our eyes to new ways of relating, seeing, and doing. If only we would focus not on the tent that has been stolen, but on our suddenly expanding view of the universe. Watch out, oh you who desire growth.

Jesus will steal your tent.