Daily Guideposts 2016: 14-Day Reading Plan預覽

When I was young (read: stupid), my father and I worked on cars. I thought of myself as an expert by the time I was sixteen, so when I noticed a young woman standing beside her stalled Chevy, I asked what was wrong. “It won’t start,” she said.

I explained how the carburetor butterfly valve might be stuck or maybe the timing was off. She looked at me quietly; I thought she was considering my advice. Then she said, “My car has electronic ignition and fuel injection, so it’s unlikely to be the timing. And it doesn’t even have a carburetor. I think the dead battery is the obvious reason.”

She was employing a scientific adage known as Occam’s razor: the simplest explanation is the first one to try.

At sixteen, I didn’t have much use for science or explanations . . . or razors, for that matter. Instead I relied on half-truths, wild guesses, and something I once saw some guy do on TV. That was my approach to everything. It did not serve me well.

And that is how we learn. I think of that often when I talk to college students. They sometimes mistake assumptions for knowledge, philosophy for faith, a passing relationship for a permanent romance. Their hurried decisions are exasperating and often wrong. We ask them—beg them—to explain what in the world they were thinking, but Occam tells us the answer: because they’re just like us, just like we were once. We needed jumper cables and hard experience to shock our systems toward adulthood.

Youth isn’t wasted on the young. Growing up—growing one’s experiences, growing one’s faith—takes time. It’s really that simple.

Lord, remind us of the road we’ve traveled so we, like You, can show mercy rather than judgment.

—Mark Collins

Digging Deeper: Psalm 144:12–13, 1 Timothy 4:12