Super, And Not So Much

I'm not really a football fan.  I enjoy watching a game from time to time, but I don't invest enough energy to deserve that "Fan" title.  Even as a casual observer, though, I think I'm entitled to say, "Last night's Super Bowl wasn't."  I can imagine prayers going up from the NFL head office.  "Lord, a blackout would be nice."

Even if you have a really big bottle, and you try really hard, you can't put lightning in it.  If it happens to be there, be honest enough to admit it's not my fault.

In our day we are arrogant enough to think that just because we say something is great, or wonderful, or "Super" that it is.  If you are of that persuasion, replay last night's game.

We live in a time in which cat litter is described, on the package, as "extreme,"  many fast food joints no longer even have "small" drinks, and "Good" just isn't good enough.  If "all the children are above average" how do we describe those who really are average, or those who truly do excel, for that matter?

I find myself in a bind here.  My primary purpose in using language is to communicate, not correct.  I can step up to the counter and unload a tirade to the high school kid taking my order, about how all I really want issmall drink, or I can just bite my tongue, go along, and order a "medium," knowing it is the smallest thing they sell.  I will know, but keep quiet about the fact that medium can't be medium if it doesn't have something on each side that makes it medium. 

The real problem is not with ordering drinks.  The real problem has to do with the fact that calling something that is small by a bigger name doesn't make it bigger; it makes the things that truly are big seem small.  In a world where everything is the greatest nothing seems great.

We live in a world where, if we are going to be understood, we have to communicate in "Grande"s, "Colossal"s, and "better-than"s.  Folk actually think that something can be "more perfect" than the merely "perfect."  They're "absolutely sure" about that.  They know their conclusion is "more right" than any other.  If I need to use that over the top language to make a kid who did something worthy of praise feel good about her accomplishment, then I'll sprinkle superlatives like a salt-a-holic seasoning a tomato.  When I'm able, though, I'll do what I'm lamely doing right now-remind myself, and you, that just calling it "the greatest" doesn't make it so.

I have an important motive.  In the Bible I meet One Who is superlative in every sense.  I want to make sure that I reserve the best for Him.

  

It's STTA.