I wish I invented velcro.
It’s fantastic stuff. It holds things together quickly and efficiently. I find it everywhere: tennis shoes, floor mats in my car, and on my luggage. I even have some little pieces that can be used for hanging pictures on walls.
Velcro is great because it attaches things firmly to each other, but still allows them to be easily moved or removed. Velcro attachments are strong, but not permanent; quick, but not fragile; simple yet sufficient. And the best thing about a velcro attachment is how long it lasts – only as long as you want it to! When it no longer serves your purpose, a velcro attachment can be removed without a trace.
Back in the dark ages (the 60’s I suppose), there was no velcro. If you wanted to attach two objects to each other, you had to use glue or screws or nails. This was a messy business. Everything had to be perfectly aligned before you pounded in the nails or poured on the glue. Once it was done, there was no way to change your mind. Such bonds didn’t just last as long as you wanted them to, they lasted forever! Even if you removed the nails, the nail hole served as an eternal reminder of the connection which was once there.
So I rejoice in the fact that I live in the age of velcro. However, I fear this little piece of space-age technology has gotten out of hand. We keep looking to apply it in places it really doesn’t belong. The very same features which make velcro great for closing our backpacks make it terrible for our relationships.
We live in an age of velcro commitments. We have velcro marriages that stick together just as long as both parties want them to. As soon as one party tires of the relationship, he or she gives good tug and the attachment seems to vanish without a trace.
Children grow up in velcro families, no longer headed by mothers and fathers, but rather “primary care givers.” These fascinating creatures attach quickly and cleanly to the household, but can be removed and replaced easily because they are only attached with velcro. They can even be mixed and matched with care givers from other households. So versatile!
Businesses operate with velcro contracts. “I know I promised to pay, but things have changed!” Our word is no longer as good as gold, it is as good as velcro.
Jesus’ teaching on commitment shatters the complacency of the velcro generation like a gunshot on a still night. He says that no one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of heaven. He says of marriage that “what God has put together let no man put asunder.” He reminds us that there is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for his friend. When it comes to commitment, one must choose between Jesus and velcro. There is no middle ground.
Jesus modeled the commitment he demanded. Though he sweat blood at the prospect, he followed through on his commitment to us, even though it cost him his life. Would we call it “the greatest story every told” if he were attached to the cross with velcro? I think not.
Jesus’ commitments were made of nails, not velcro. They were difficult to sustain, but glorious in their effect. They were not lightly conceived; they were planned from eternity past. And as the Author and Perfecter of our faith, his pattern of commitment needs to be ours. We must craft our commitments thoughtfully, knowing that once they are made they are not to be broken. We must secure our commitments as with hammer and nails, clamps and glue.
Yes, I wish I invented velcro. But I take a certain sort of pleasure in denying its inventor the royalties from my commitments. I choose to make them with nails instead of velcro.
