Our Pastor mentioned the gospels, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and even John, the way each of them are sometimes recounting the same events but in different ways. John for example, does not mention Peter walking on water towards Jesus, because it is not really pertinent to the actual point John is making.
Some people will label these things “inconsistencies” and allege it proves the bible cannot be taken seriously. This has often baffled me, because I could never figure out why people didn’t just get the fact that we have four different people telling the same story, each highlighting different aspects of it in their own way. The variations are slight, much slighter than I would expect to see if I interviewed four eyewitnesses today, for example.
It was nice to hear the Pastor speak of this because as a writer and communicator this is kind of the bane of my existence. Ai yi yi, often one cannot even begin to tell a story without someone deciding you’re telling it all wrong.
Well, that is not what so and so said. Why are you omitting the most important part? You’re hiding something!
Marriage can be like this, too. The other day I was happily telling the tale of how my knee came to be sore, when hubby interjected, “you forgot the biscuits.”
I actually did not forget the biscuits at all. The biscuits were unforgettable. It is just that the biscuits were completely irrelevant to the tale of my sore knee. If I had an unlimited amount of time, I may have gotten around to mentioning the biscuits.
It’s a bit funny, hubby seemed to believe the entire essence of the whole tale, the only thing that mattered at all, was those biscuits.
So I gave in, rolled my eyes, and simply surrendered to the biscuits. The biscuits were light and flaky, smothered in butter and strawberry preserves. They were warm and full of crevices, crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside….
So you see, that is how I came to twist my knee……
Made perfect sense to hubby, he was smiling and nodding his head, as if he expected everyone else to understand the logic there, too.
Were hubby and I unable to communicate with one another, if we did not speak the same language somewhat, this tale could have been very differant. I could have taken offense that he mentoned the biscuits, falsely assuming he cared nothing about my knee. He could have assumed I was lying and attempting to hide his precious biscuits for nefarious reasons.
Grace for one another is kind of like the butter on a biscuit.