scarecrows

I’m trying to picture it: I’m in trouble – maybe someone I love is badly ill, maybe I’m about to lose my job – and I know there’s nothing I can do. So I go out to the cucumber field, where a scarecrow hangs on a pole, and I say, “Mr. Scarecrow, I need to be saved. I need help. Could you please heal my wife? Could you change my boss’s mind?” 

That’s the ridiculous picture Jeremiah paints in Jeremiah 10:3 “For the practices of the peoples are worthless; they cut a tree out of the forest, and a craftsman shapes it with his chisel. They adorn it with silver and gold; they fasten it with hammer and nails so it will not totter. Like a scarecrow in a cucumber field, their idols cannot speak; they must be carried because they cannot walk. Do not fear them; they can do no harm nor can they do any good.”

“Scarecrow in a cucumber field” is such a great phrase. It immediately communicates the complete futility of idolatry. So I laugh at those foolish Israelites who would do such a stupid thing.

And then I realize that when my loved ones get sick, I pray, but usually after we’ve seen a doctor, have a diagnosis and prognosis, and have bought some drugs. When I’m concerned at work, I go talk to my boss before I talk to God.

Truthfully, I often put my faith in science and money and my own persuasive skills. God is too often my last resort. So, if an idol is something I put faith in instead of God, I maybe do have some idols. I’m another one of those fools trudging to the cucumber patch to kneel in front of a scarecrow.

The world calls my faith superstition. But that image of the scarecrow, with its leering burlap head stuffed with straw, with crossed stitches for eyes, as an object of worship brings home how truly a belief in anything else is superstitious. 

I want to be done with that. I want to honor the God who’s been so faithful and patient with me; I want to acknowledge him as the source of every good thing. But I find it isn’t natural. Why not? That’s something I need to ponder.