“This is the best salmon I’ve had in a long time,” commented my husband, Steve, after taking the first bite. He quickly forked another. “How’s your salad?”
“Delicious!” I enthused. “’Love this combination of turkey, feta, and cranberries!”
After a morning of shopping for the granddaughters (birthday gifts and summer clothes), we had stopped at a familiar café for a late lunch. The host graciously seated us in a back corner.
Patrons were leaving; our waiter chatted pleasantly with us, no longer responsible for multiple tables waiting to be served. Soft jazz played in the background, adding more charm to the experience.
Halfway through our meal, a waitress seated herself at the empty table across from us, a caddy of flatware and napkins in tow. She proceeded to polish the former and wrap sets with the latter.
Clunk-clunk-ka-clunk, the knives, forks, and spoons clattered on the table after each piece received its shine. (Why couldn’t she at least spread out some of the cloth napkins from her caddy to absorb the racket?)
But the clamor wasn’t the worst of it. She had not disinfected the table. And two gentlemen had been sitting there when we first arrived. That tabletop received no more than a precursory wipe. I had to wonder about her hands, too—touching fork tines, spoon bowls, and knife blades as she polished.
If only the host had taken us to another corner. We’d never have witnessed this breach of sanitization-protocol, and our ignorance would have been bliss (unless we got sick, which we didn’t)!
Sometimes ignorance is a good thing.
I, for one, am glad the future is unknown to me, protecting me from worry. In my opinion, we’re better off not knowing everything that will happen next month or next year.
Our lack of knowledge—even about tomorrow–draws us to trust in God more intently. And growing trust allows us to delight in him more fully.
Think of a young child holding Dad’s hand while crossing a busy street. He revels in this one-on-one time with his hero, enjoying the security of his small hand in Dad’s big, strong one. He happily chatters on about what color sneakers to purchase when they reach the shoe store.
The boy doesn’t see Dad’s watchful eye on the traffic light, on the car that might turn into the lane where they’re walking, or on the texting teenager–heading straight toward them.
But Dad has the situation under control. All possible mishaps are avoided.
Ignorance is bliss for the little boy. He trusts his father to care for him and protect him, because Dad has proven himself over and over again.
And hasn’t our Heavenly Father repeatedly proved himself to us?
- He has provided (Psalm 23:1). All of our needs are met.
- He has led (Psalm 23:3). God guides us in the way we should go.
- He has been trustworthy (Psalm 9:10). He never forsakes his own.
We can live in ignorant bliss of the future when we embrace child-like trust in God.
A child knows he is weak and helpless, lacking in knowledge and wisdom. He recognizes his dependence on adults.
In the spiritual realm, that translates to an attitude of humility, receptiveness, and neediness before God.
And the final result of ignorant bliss? Peace.
(“You will keep in perfect peace him whose mind is steadfast,
because he trusts in you.” –Isaiah 26:3)