The Carnival of the Past

You may be lost in the world, looking for the “right track.” The amusement park of the past is familiar, bright, & colorful. The carnival music entices and draws you into recollection. The many tracks are attractive. No matter what age, you will find a track for all. Wood, metal, and other construction mediums combine for a smooth ride. And, there are so many to choose from. If you find that you’re tired of riding, you can play games, stuff yourself with food, or just get lost in the crowd. Sounds pleasant, eh?

The food is expensive and detrimental to your health. The price is not worth the mess it brings. Sticky hands and empty pockets are not a good trade for the lingering mess and short-lived satisfaction. And good luck finding a bathroom to wash your hands. Just don’t even look at the food in the first place.

The crowd? Ha. Good luck finding help from them. They’re in the confusion just the same as you. They wallow in the confusion, some even thriving on it.

The carnival games are practically pointless. You stop dead, pay a price, and if you possess a useless skill you might just win a prize. Yay, you now have a useless toy that you have to carry around, monopolizing an entire arm. If you are “lucky” enough you might have a sweetie there to give it to. An expression of your love, by handing them a relic from your past which they have no use for, save the occasional glance in its direction. Why burden anyone with that? If you are burdened with relics, give them to God. His arms are big enough for anything you’ve got, and He is thrilled with every one you choose to relinquish.

And then, there are the rides. The tracks of the past. You can ride the simple memories: the kiddie rides. You can ride the ones that turn and turn and turn until you barf. You can ride the tremendous monster roller coasters that dip and twirl and turn. You can put your hands in the air. You can scream. You can laugh.

And, some people enjoy this mess. They savor the tragic beauty of failure.

In the end, when the ride is over, you are right back where you started from. The track may have whipped you around, flung you high, drug you low, and turned you on your head, but you end up exactly where you began. With no progress.

A quick survey of your surroundings, and you will find that all the rides are the same. Whether you love them or hate them, they still go nowhere.

Endless, mindless, aimless, relentless, pointless, profitless, godless circles.

Why bother?!

Just save yourself some problems, and avoid the carnival altogether. You can’t change the past by dwelling on it or wallowing in it. Let God handle it all. He wants to. He’s waiting. Is your past so precious that you want to keep it so badly? To lick your wounds again and again? Reliving your nightmares of failure like you’re trapped in the House of Mirrors—by choice?

Instead, hop on the train. You already have your ticket. It was already paid for, all you have to do is to actually board the train.

Take the train. Those tracks are not as easy to get off of, and they continue until they reach their destination. You know where you should be headed: Directly at Christ! Find a platform, and board already!! Take a plane, take a boat, take the monorail if you must! Just find your destination, and go! Get there! (Sounds like a Seuss book.)

Perhaps someday, the past will call out to you. You might even hear the carnival music drift enticingly over a warm and gentle breeze. Just think about it. You might glance back, see the lights, the Ferris wheel, even listen to the music.

But.

Continue on. If your destination is worth it, you can’t afford to be distracted any longer.

Besides . . .

Carnival music is creepy.