God is Not My Pet Rock

I admit that I get frustrated by it all sometimes. Some of you are way too young . . . well actually you are way too young, period. But you were not around in 1975. I was a sophomore at Hampton High School, Hampton, Tennessee.

An advertising exec from California went to a local bar for a few drinks. He came home with an idea that made him a millionaire. Gary Dahl created the Pet Rock craze. He marketed a pet (retail 3.95) rock that took no care and still gave its owner a few minutes of pleasure. Name it, train it, and put it on your desk. Talk about it.

No need to defend this pet to your spouse. No costly pet food or messy carpet "spills." The rock came complete with a training manual that was a step by step guide to having a happy relationship with your geological pet (Encyclopedia of Pop Culture). Google Pet Rock. You will chuckle and get an illustration that will speak to boomers.

Seven students, one from Clemson, six from USC died in a fire Sunday morning at Ocean Isle Beach, North Carolina. I have no explanation for why that happened. I enjoyed a great discussion with my group at world headquarters yesterday. We wrestled over the why. I am so glad we did. If I met any family members, I would not even try to explain. I would say something like I am so sorry, I will pray for you all (and have already).

God is not my Pet Rock. He was not thought up in a bar over a couple of drinks. He is not a six month fad. Although sometimes I feel so very uncomfortable about it all, I enjoy His vastness. He is big, really big. Apparent messes bubble up. Disagreements over Him, His purposes and His ways emerge after tsunamis, airplanes in buildings, and burning beach houses. He can take the heat.

Cynthia, you get an assist for this one. The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but those things which are revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may do all the words of this law (Deut. 29:29). Enough said.