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When reading my most recent blog some helpful dose of God’s perspective will be needed. The psalmist offers a great prescription in Psalm 46:6, which reads: “The nations rage, the kingdoms totter; Yahweh utters his voice, the earth melts.” What a timely blessing to note that when all the world rages, even when real horrors unfold,   the Eternal One is not shaken and we can trust him to ultimately break the bows and shatter the spears.

It is an amazing world in which we live. In all of my raw cynicism I declare that with a shake of the head.

Consider, for example, the things about which we wring our hands regularly: Can I get the iphone before they all sell out? Will Paris Hilton be a “better person” now that she’s had jail time? Will gas prices go down or is global warming contributing to the massive rain that we in Texas have had? Will second-hand smoke kill me? Are we going to play bunco at church on Sunday evening? Or is it spelled bunko?

I cannot help but believe that most of this stuff relates to “crises” and “concerns” that we Americans guilt ourselves into having to deal with. Perhaps because we’re so generally affluent and comfortable we own a quiet shame that makes us have to have things to worry about so that we may assuage our own insecurities with made-up horrors and distractions.

Or maybe my cynicism really is getting the best of me. But then, I read about real horrors and I cringe at the things we–and, of course, I–grouse about. Consider this dose of reality, reported by Michael Yon, straight out of Iraq:

“[An] official reported that on a couple of occasions in Baqubah, al Qaeda invited to lunch families they wanted to convert to their way of thinking. In each instance, the family had a boy, he said, who was about 11-years-old. As LT David Wallach interpreted the man’s words, I saw Wallach go blank and silent.  He stopped interpreting for a moment. I asked Wallach, ‘What did he say?’ Wallach said that at these luncheons, the families were sat down to eat.  And then their boy was brought in with his mouth stuffed. The boy had been baked.  Al Qaeda served the boy to his family.”

Baked boy? Does this sort of reality not make worrying about bunco on Sunday or racing for iphones seem somehow . . . stupid?

Now, significantly, as a Christ-follower I am forced to reckon with perspective-making matters that my north Dallas Christianity would rather I not endure. How can I possibly justify sweating over whether my Cingular 8125 is as glitzy as your iphone when boys are being literally baked for dinner and fed to their parents?

Or when girls are tossing their cookies so as to look a certain way?

Or when some elderly and invalid man is abandoned at Wal-Mart by a family that doesn’t want to spoon-feed him?

Of course, as I pause and read over my musings here I’m compelled to apologize for being so dour. Indeed, my inner-conflicts are so great I think I should stop now.

Besides, my MP3 player is beckoning me to lose myself in some nice praise songs.