I am not what anyone might confuse for tech-savvy. Like everyone else, I’ve forgotten my fair share of passwords, know how to log on to my e-mail and Facebook account, but as far as being on the cutting edge of technology, let’s just say I’m nowhere close.
A couple of days ago I was in the local Best Buy looking for a webcam. My laptop has a built-in one, but it’s at the bottom of the screen, and anytime anyone wants to interview me with video, they end up getting a shot of my nasal passages, and not much else. Couple that with a plan to start doing short teaching videos on different topics, and I decided it was time to make the investment.
Noticing that I looked somewhat lost, and out of place, a young man in yellow polo walked up and asked if I needed any help. I explained the situation to him, he smiled, said follow men, and we went to the appropriate row.
We went through the different options, from the run of the mill streaming webcam to the high definition, ultra-high-definition, and the newest, the 4K webcam with clarity so pristine you could count the pores on your nose from ten feet away.
Most of what he was saying went right over my head, but he seemed excited, and I didn’t want to be rude, so I nodded along, trying to keep my eyes from glazing over.
“Oh, and if you’re worried about the clarity on the 4K,” he said, “there are filters you can download to make you seem softer.” Apparently this was enough of an issue with prior customers that he felt he needed to share this little tidbit, but I assured him I was not that vain, and I have no problem with people seeing my laugh lines or age spots, or other dermatological imperfections.
I thanked him for his time, told him I’d think about it, and once I made a decision, I’d be back. On the drive home, I couldn’t help but return to what he’d said about the clarity of the 4K camera, and how you could download software to make it less so.
There was something there that kept gnawing at me, but I couldn’t put my finger on quite what it was. As I pulled into my driveway, it dawned on me, and I realized why the interaction seemed to hold more weight than it ought.
Rather than acknowledge the reality of what we are seeing when we look in the mirror of the Word, rather than admit that the reflection is ours and that if we are unhappy with what we are seeing it is up to us to make a change, we look for filters to pacify ourselves so we can remain in the same spiritual state.
We don’t like what we are seeing, and rather than fix the flaws, we find filters to mask the flaws. Instead of humbling ourselves, seeking His face, and repenting of the things that mar our spiritual countenance, we seek out the validation of those who tell us we are beautiful just the way we are even though it’s clear as day that they have a vested interest in saying it.
Mirrors don’t lie, and neither does the Word. They have no reason to. That which is reflected in the mirror is your true countenance. Unless you’re in a funhouse at a fair, it’s not the mirror that’s trying to trick you into believing that you’re getting pudgy around the middle, or that you have crow’s feet around your eyes. If you do not like what is reflected, it is no the mirror’s fault.
The same goes for the Word, which is unflinching and unapologetic when it comes to our reflection.
Rather than go in search of filters, or someone to tell us that it’s not what it really means, our time would be far better served in systematically allowing for the blood of Jesus to do away with the blemishes.
With love in Christ,
Michael Boldea Jr.