The phrase “if only I were” is one of the worst phrases in the English language. It’s up there with classic bad phrases such as, “Dude, I can totally clear that gap,” “Give me your wallet” (delivered at gunpoint), and “I just want to be friends” (which should be delivered at gun point).
The phrase is almost always followed by one of a laundry list of physical, psychological, or spiritual ailments that the speaker had thrust upon them at birth.
“If only I were taller, girls would flock to me like moths to a flame.”
“If only I were more beautiful, men would worship the ground I walk on… or at least give me the time of day.”
“If only I were smarter, I wouldn’t have to work at (insert name of fast food chain here).”
“If only I were a prophet, God would speak to me more clearly.”
The running theme here isn’t a list of things that people can change. You can’t make yourself taller, can’t fix the size of your nose (without plastic surgery, which is really cheating), and can’t add forty points to your IQ. And, for the love of all that’s holy, sitting on your self-righteous rear wishing you could hear the audible voice of the Creator won’t bring you any closer to the Great I Am.
Ah, but if you could change all those horrible things, just think how un-you you could make yourself.
The next obvious thing for me to say is that you should be happy with yourself, embrace all that you are, and go skipping through the daisies of life. Because, as we all know, the only thing standing between you and eternal bliss is self-acceptance, self-actualization, and self-intoxication. I may have made that last hyphenated word up. Regardless, they’re all wrong.
I will now unfold for you, my valued and anonymous reader, the secret of life. I do so for free because I don’t have big enough hair to be a televangelist and ask for your money. The secret is: Don’t whine about the hand you were dealt, but don’t try to play it either. Make God play it.
There are examples all through the Bible about people being dealt the worst that life has to offer and making it through without that seething bitterness that grips the modern world. The way they did this is simple. They didn’t wake up in the morning, tell themselves how special they were, lie to themselves about their faults really being strengths, and then proceed to kick @$$ and take names. Nope. They looked square at God, well as square as you can look at the Almighty, and said, “I can’t do what You asked me too. Just plain can’t do it. But I’m going to try anyway. Because You told me to. So if You could help me out with this, that’d be great.”
Saying, “If I were only,” is admitting defeat before starting the game, laying down arms before the Germans even get close to your borders, flat out saying that God didn’t make you good enough to do what He wants you to do. That, my friends, is bunk.
After all, who really wants to tell God that the you that you are is really just a decent prototype and that you’re sure that the next you He makes will be better… you hope?
The phrase is almost always followed by one of a laundry list of physical, psychological, or spiritual ailments that the speaker had thrust upon them at birth.
“If only I were taller, girls would flock to me like moths to a flame.”
“If only I were more beautiful, men would worship the ground I walk on… or at least give me the time of day.”
“If only I were smarter, I wouldn’t have to work at (insert name of fast food chain here).”
“If only I were a prophet, God would speak to me more clearly.”
The running theme here isn’t a list of things that people can change. You can’t make yourself taller, can’t fix the size of your nose (without plastic surgery, which is really cheating), and can’t add forty points to your IQ. And, for the love of all that’s holy, sitting on your self-righteous rear wishing you could hear the audible voice of the Creator won’t bring you any closer to the Great I Am.
Ah, but if you could change all those horrible things, just think how un-you you could make yourself.
The next obvious thing for me to say is that you should be happy with yourself, embrace all that you are, and go skipping through the daisies of life. Because, as we all know, the only thing standing between you and eternal bliss is self-acceptance, self-actualization, and self-intoxication. I may have made that last hyphenated word up. Regardless, they’re all wrong.
I will now unfold for you, my valued and anonymous reader, the secret of life. I do so for free because I don’t have big enough hair to be a televangelist and ask for your money. The secret is: Don’t whine about the hand you were dealt, but don’t try to play it either. Make God play it.
There are examples all through the Bible about people being dealt the worst that life has to offer and making it through without that seething bitterness that grips the modern world. The way they did this is simple. They didn’t wake up in the morning, tell themselves how special they were, lie to themselves about their faults really being strengths, and then proceed to kick @$$ and take names. Nope. They looked square at God, well as square as you can look at the Almighty, and said, “I can’t do what You asked me too. Just plain can’t do it. But I’m going to try anyway. Because You told me to. So if You could help me out with this, that’d be great.”
Saying, “If I were only,” is admitting defeat before starting the game, laying down arms before the Germans even get close to your borders, flat out saying that God didn’t make you good enough to do what He wants you to do. That, my friends, is bunk.
After all, who really wants to tell God that the you that you are is really just a decent prototype and that you’re sure that the next you He makes will be better… you hope?
Comments
If you try hard enough, I imagine you'll also be able to compare people's attitudes toward God using standard self-help book phraseology and then, without missing a beat, compare fatalism to the Polish in WWII.
Like I said, maybe one day.
As a side note, the best part about the card analogy is that I don't even like poker.