You ever seen a grown-up stick their fingers in their ears and “la-la-la-la-la, I can’t hear you!!!”?  I’ve seen it happen over sporting events.  The old, “I’ve got the game recorded, please don’t spoil it for me” trick.  TV shows.  A season finale.  There are some justifiable times for such childish actions.

I don’t see it all that much, but I fear that I do it often.  Maybe I don’t literally use my fingers and the words may be a bit more sophisticated than la-la-la, but I’m pretty sure I do the ‘grown-up’ version more often than I’d like to admit.

But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him….”Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”  The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”                                                             Luke 10:33-37

The prejudice ran so deep, the loathing so intense that the expert knew the answer to the question but couldn’t bare to say it outright.  The idea of the Samaritan being the good guy just wasn’t one he could stomach.  Instead of giving the easy answer, “The Samaritan was the good neighbor,” he chose to describe the action that was good rather than the actual person.

Do you see the subtle slighting there?  This expert would not give the Samaritan, any Samaritan real or storied the credit of being the hero. He wouldn’t hear of that.

Thus the grown-up la-la-la-I can’t hear you.

God has asked me to do a few things I can instantly recall when I pulled a la-la-la. One I have in mind was just a potentially humiliating endeavor.  I resisted, I hemmed and hawed, I even thanked and praised Him for speaking to me so clearly!  He didn’t think my hearing was enough.  He was looking for a little action.

I did it.  It was a bit humiliating.  It was worth it.

I’m thinking of another la-la-la.  He asked me to do something that was over my head.  It wasn’t something that I could do without help and, true to my sinful self, I don’t really like help sometimes.  He had dependence on the Body in mind and I was satisfied with dependence on the Man alone.  I do love a Holy Huddle.

I did it.  It was a bit overwhelming.  It was worth it.

And then I turn to other la-la-la’s.  There are countless ones I’d rather not think on.

I didn’t do it.  It was a bit too hard.  I missed all that would have been worth it.

He will stretch and He will speak and He will move and He will work, but will I plug my ears or let Him do it?

Take a minute and think back on the parts, the moments in your life that even after decades are so fresh and meaningful in your mind.  Do any of them involve laundry?  Do any of them have you on the edge of your seat in excitement over whether or not the bill gets paid?  Do any of the truly meaningful moments in your life involve the safe and predictable things that we plug our ears and press on toward with such resolute obstinance?  Martha’s role is a valuable one.  People gotta eat.  But how often does our Daddy find Himself shaking His head and wishing we’d take our fingers out of our ears and sit for a while. (The story of Mary and Martha is right after the Good Samaritan in Luke by the way.) How often do I miss that which is worth it.  How often do I plug my ears and la-la-la through all that is meaningful and lasting and purposeful and eternal and full for reasons that are endless and varied and shockingly insignificant?

Sometimes you hear things that stretch you beyond comfort.  Sometimes you hear things that scare you to death.  Sometimes you hear things that your prejudices want to deny.  Sometimes you hear things that don’t fit your mold.  Sometimes you hear things that send you down untrodden roads.

And the sometimes when you quiet the la-la-la’s of defiance, obstinance, and fear, you get to live the moments that are worth it.