Recently a small tool (an Allen-wrench set that looks like one of those multiple-tool folding knives) went missing from my work area. Since it was a tool that my young granddaughter, Trisha, is intrigued by and often picks up and attempts to cart away, and which for her own safety I have to verbally correct her about each time she does, I was certain that it was Trish who had taken it when it went missing this time. Who else could it be, I reasoned, she was guilty by circumstantial evidence.
I wasn’t angry at her about it, because I know kids will be kids, but my thoughts were constantly lingering on the suspicions I harbored. I asked her at one point; as she is a very intelligent little girl, ‘Trish, did you take grandpa’s tool?” to which she sweetly responded, “no”. Of course I didn’t believe her.
The reason the loss of this tool was of such concern to me (not that I couldn’t drop by an auto or hardware shop and get a replacement) was because it’s just one of those handy little gadgets that I find myself using frequently and I just happened to be working on a project for which I needed my little gadget, but alas, it was gone, taken by I know not who, but of whom I had my suspicions.
Well, I ended up looking high and low for that missing tool and of course couldn’t find it; I finally resigned myself to the fact that I’d have to pick up another one, all the while continuing to harbor my suspicions: never once, did I relinquish them!
Did the story end there? Not on your life. A few days later I went to grab a pen from my cup holder of pens and pencils on my desk, couldn’t find the pen I was looking for, grabbed the cup-holder, gave it a tip to find the pen and out popped my little folding-Allen-wrench tool. Its just fit inside the length of the container and so I couldn’t see that it was actually inside until I tipped the container on its side. Needless to say I felt about this (.) high as a person.
Here I had been harboring my almost certain suspicions of my poor little innocent granddaughter’s supposed misdeed and all the while I had myself to blame. Does that ever happen to you? And the worst part of this story is that it’s kind of like this ongoing mini-series that switches on from time-to-time in my life unless I consciously make the effort to ‘switch channels’ into a more positive mode.
As the old saying goes, and I’ve found it to be unfailingly true: “suspicion is far more apt to be wrong than to be right.” I’m praying for a makeover in this area of my life. In scripture Satan is called at one point “the accuser of the saints”, I sure don’t’ want to have that kind of a nature, I’d much rather strive to take on Jesus’ nature who is always so kind, tenderhearted, forgiving, endlessly giving us the benefit of the doubt, and is both positive and encouraging. Out ogre, on Christ.