Don't Lick Fiberglass.

I have a cat named Izzy.  She's a good kitty, and I like her.  But she has this unhealthy obsession... she will work ridiculously hard to fulfill it, too.  She'll dig and hunt and search, and finally... she'll succeed.  And she'll take her prize and lick it.  The object of her affection?  Fiberglass insulation.

I was talking to my daddy tonight, and told him that she'd just obtained and licked more fiberglass.  I then said I had no idea why any creature would do such a thing - think about how much it hurts when you put your HAND on fiberglass.  And then try to imagine licking it?! 

He paused, and said, "Well, I think that a lot of times, that's how God feels about us."

My dad sometimes says things that stop me in my tracks.

And now, I am thinking to myself... "How much fiberglass have I licked lately?"

Obviously (or it should be obvious, anyway) I haven't actually licked any.  But... what have I worked hard and long for?  What have I kept in the front of my mind, devoting my attention, affection, and energy to?  And of those things, how much is the equivalent of licking fiberglass?

I am quite certain there are things I find appealing, enjoyable, or for whatever other reason, I like to do.  Things that seem worthwhile to me.  Things that, from a heavenly, eternal perspective... well, they are like licking fiberglass.  God knows what could be and what I could have/do/experience... and He knows what I actually have/do/experience.  And I suspect my daddy is right.  God probably looks at a lot of it and feels the same way I do when I watch my cat lick fiberglass.

Because truthfully... there is better.