Faith-in-the-box

Sometimes I wonder at the inventions that catch on with folks and go on to make millions of dollars. And even more, I wonder why I can't seem to come up with an idea that would do just that ... make millions of dollars, that is. I mean, some inventions are just ... well ... they just seem dumb to me, and yet they generate millions and millions of dollars for their inventors. Out of curiosity, I Googled the phrase, "Top 10 stupid inventions that made millions." Bet you can't guess what topped the list ... the Pet Rock. Yep ... rocks with plastic eyes glued on them, and people bought millions of them. The guy who came up with the idea was a former advertising executive (which speaks volumes to me since I work for an ad agency) ... he sold the rocks on a bed of hay in a cardboard box that looked like a pet carrier and included a training manual for the "hassle-free pet." He sold each one for $3.95, earning himself a nice profit of $3.00 per rock. Dumb idea? Yes. Genius inventor who is now sitting on a tropical beach somewhere drinking strawberry daiquiris? Yes. Somewhat jealous woman penning this blog who bought one of said rocks as a teenager? Yes.

Now I'm sure you're wondering why in the world I'm thinking and writing about dumb inventions such as the Pet Rock.Something my doctor said on Wednesday night caused me to think about another million-dollar invention that seems not only dumb, but a little mean, too. This one has been around since the early 1500s, which is simply astounding to me. The Encyclopedia of American Folk Art credits the element of surprise for the enduring popularity of the ... wait for it ... yes ... the jack-in-the-box. Element of surprise? Really? You turn a crank on the side of a box that plays an atrocious form of music and when you least expect it, a devilish-looking clown pops out of the box and scares the daylights out of you. I remember my Matt in particular crying crocodile tears because he was so afraid of the jack-in-the-box toy someone gave him. Element of surprise ... enduring popularity ... yeah, right. And yet, the creepy, jumpy toy in the box has not only been on my mind for the last couple of days, it's even made it's way into my dreams at night ... think creepy times a million.

So what did the good doctor say to me on Wednesday that prompted my thinking to travel down such a path as this? She talked about my faith being in a box, and she talked about it in a completely unapologetic manner. She said there are parts and pieces of my life that I haven't been able to get to fit together with my faith-in-the-box, things that I believe can't coexist inside the box with my faith. She had a ton to say about my need to find a way to let my faith jump out of the box and wrap itself around me ... wrap itself around every part and piece of me. When she tells me things like that, I nod my head as if I understand and intend to do what she has suggested. And as I've pondered what she said about my faith being in a box, I've found myself wishing that I could just turn a crank on my heart and let my faith jump out and surprise me. But here's the thing ... I think perhaps I'm afraid of what might happen, of what God might ask of me, of where allowing my faith-in-the-box to jump out might take me.

I wonder if I've still got Matt's old jack-in-the-box hidden away somewhere in the basement ... I'm good at that you know, hiding things away in the basement. Maybe I need to practice letting some of those things jump out of their boxes ... maybe I do indeed.