soggy cheerios

My 10-month old son recently discovered the joy of Cheerios.  He can’t get enough of them.  He eats them with breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  He eats them in the car, he snacks on them between meals.  He eats them fresh, he eats them stale.  He eats them crunchy, he eats them soggy.  He eats them in his bowl, on his tray, from his lap, off the floor.  Would he, could he in a boat?  Would he, could he with a goat?  Yes, he’ll eat them here and there!  Say, he’ll eat them ANYWHERE!

It doesn’t matter if the Cheerio is broken or mangled, soggy or stale, dirty, dusty, dry . . . he loves them all.  He doesn’t care where the Cheerio has been in the past or what path it took to find him.  His joy at finding a Cheerio in the last corner of his tray is as exciting and overwhelming as his joy at picking up his first Cheerio of the day.

He loves Cheerios.

Cute, but what’s the point?  Well, I think we’re a lot like Cheerios.  Yes, I know it sounds silly.  But I think we really are.  Some of us are dirty.  Some of us are broken.  Some of us feel stale and dry, worn out, old.  Some of us are young, new, fresh out of the box – innocent, pure.  Some of us are soggy, saturated by the noises and voices of the world.  Some of us have lots of stuff, some of us have little or nothing.  Some of us live in big boxes, some of us live under the stars.  Some of us have traveled far, some of us have never gone outside our comfort zones.  Some of us are loud, some of us are silent. 

But in spite (and maybe even because) of our differences, we are all loved.  God sees beyond the differences.  He sees us as we truly are, and He loves us anyway.  God, who is holy, set apart, wholly other, loves us. 

Christian, Jew, Muslim, Buddhist, atheist, agnostic, midwesterner, New Englander, Californian, Michigander, Texan, New Orleans-ian, Bostonian, Canadian, British, Russian, South African, Guatemalan, Sudanese, Chinese, Columbian, Australian, Haitian, White, Black, Hispanic, tall, short, loud, fat, thin, rich, poor, Democrat, Republican, liberal, moderate, right-wing, left handed, famous, infamous, amateur, professional, student, white-collar, blue-collar, no collar . . . God loves us all.

Why do we have such a hard time loving each other? 

 “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’  But I tell you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven.  He causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.  If you love those who love you, what reward will you get?  Are not even the tax collectors doing that?  And if you greet only your brothers, what are you doing more than others?  Do not even pagans do that?  Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” – Matthew 5:43-48

Me, I’m just a soggy Cheerio who is loved more than he deserves.

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(My wife: “So God is a big toddler sitting in the corner eating Cheerios?”

Hey, it’s not a perfect metaphor.)

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