I know. I know. I should have known better. I could have saved myself a great deal of trouble--to say nothing of the gas. But, I fell into the trap of thinking that I might actually be able to find a couple of books at our local Christian bookstore. Generally, I avoid such places like the plague. But, this afternoon I lapsed into what I can only suggest may have been temporary insanity.
I was hunting for a few commentaries. I am currently teaching through the Book of Acts and I am about to begin a series in the Gospel of Luke and perhaps another on the Epistle of James. I had thirty minutes between appointments and was near the dread Box-Store-Valley (otherwise known in my personal parlance as the Geography of Nowhere) just adjascent to our even more dreadful Maxi-Mall (affectionately known to me as Gehenna). So, I headed over to the Mega-Mart-for-All-Things-Evangelical. Surely somewhere in that 10,000 square foot garish behemoth, I thought, I would find a book or two. Nope. No such luck. None. Nada. Nothing.
Stunned, I stood in the middle of the store for a moment looking across the Jam-Packed-Miles-of-Aisles wondering what on earth anyone could possibly want with any of that Glitzy-Shiny-Tacky-Holy-Hardware! And then I quickly realized that standing there was bad for me, my attitude, my character--and my witness. I was having an extreme spiritual-cultural-intellectual allergic reaction.
I quickly turned on my heels, hopped in my truck, and drove away--with ESPN blithering away on the radio.
I think I'll be OK. But, it may take a few days.