After many years of resisting the devil, I have finally caved in to temptation. I have gone over to the dark side. I have tossed my high principles to the wind.
I have joined Facebook.
Now, if you have to ask what Facebook is, never mind. I don’t want to tempt you with the sordid details. I don’t want to be responsible for your fall from innocence. But for those of you who have long ago joined the ranks of social networking, who have felt the pulls of addiction to this book of every friend that you ever knew from preschool through the present, here I am. I am one of you, now.
I’ve actually had a lot of fun in the short time I’ve been on Facebook. I’ve reconnected with old friends and made lots of new friends. I’ve networked, which is a fancy way of saying I’ve made some casual business connections. And I was really enjoying the whole experience until . . .
In spite of the fact that I vowed never to take one of those silly quizzes they send around, yesterday I saw one that caught my eye. It was titled, “Which Book of the Bible are You?”
“Well,” I said to myself. “That can’t be too harmful. I’ll just take a minute to answer the questions, and see which book it gives me. Just for fun.”
It asked questions like, “What kinds of books do you like to read?” and “What is your ideal retirement home?” and “What kind of window coverings do you prefer on your windows?”
Well, I grinned as I answered the questions, because I knew. I knew I would end up with one of the glamorous books. You know. Song of Solomon. Esther. Or maybe Ruth.
Finally, I answered the last question, and with a cat-ate-the-canary smile, I pressed the send button. It only took a few seconds for my results to be calculated.
Do you know what book that confounded quiz compared me to?
The book of Numbers, where it counts stuff, like how many people there were.
Now, that’s just mean. And to add insult to injury, it gave me a personality description. It said I’m staid. Well, actually, it said that I give off the impression of being staid, though I probably have some shocking quirks.
Okay. I have to be honest with you. I was pretty sure I knew what the word staid meant, but I had to look it up just to be sure. I was hoping I was wrong.
Nope. Staid means exactly what I thought it meant. “Of settled or sedate character. Not flighty or capricious. Proper. Serious. Solemn.” In other words, boring.
Dad-gum, confounded quiz. I wanted to be Esther.
I shared my devastating results with my husband. He found a lot more humor in it than I did. Dad-gum, confounded man.
He has not taken the quiz yet, but he informed me that he thinks he’d be Proverbs. You know, because he’s so wise.
I agreed. He has always been a wise guy, in my opinion.
So there you have it, friends. I am staid.
But then again, I have shocking quirks. The quiz said so.
Hmmm . . . I wonder what they are.
It’s funny how a two-minute quiz can claim to know your personality, how it can claim to understand your deepest thoughts and desires. That’s just silly. There’s nothing deep about the fact that I like gauzy curtains and filtered light. I just think they’re pretty.
But though a quiz can’t know me, there is One who does. He created me, He knows my thoughts, and He knows the number of hairs on my head. And He doesn’t even require me to take a quiz, so He can figure me out. He knows all that stuff just because He loves me. He’s interested in me. And He wants to have a close relationship with me.
There’s something comforting about that, don’t you think? Most people, if they knew all the crazy thoughts that swirl around in my head, would run the other direction. But the One who knows me better than anyone is the One who loves me the most. He thinks I’m worth knowing. He thinks I’m interesting.
Even if I am staid.
“Oh, Lord, you have searched me and you know me . . .” Psalm 139:1