Strangers With Scissors – Part 2

by DanWolgemuth on May 30, 2017

A week ago I shared a story about our 2-year-old grandson, Abe, and his adventures in a barber chair.

I called the reflection, “Strangers with Scissors.” Since the moment my fingers stopped typing the story, I’ve continued to face into the powerful realities of this metaphor. In some profound way, the story continues to rock me, to inspire me, to challenge and convict me.

The fact is, that while Mary was willing to buffer the uncertainty with a “Stranger with Scissors,” the account is only winsome and engaging because Abe is a little boy. At 2 years old, Abe is transparent, cautious, and in need of familiar proximity before he ventures into uncharted territory.

This is what positioned Mary squarely in a barber chair with a black cape around her.

But the story is significantly less entertaining if Abe is 13 years old and a regular customer at the barber shop. Frankly, I would be far less likely to post a picture of Mary with her grandson on her lap if this were the case.

That means that Mary’s objective in assisting Abe through the barbering process is not simply to ensure that his hair gets expertly trimmed, but as an overarching theme, he becomes increasingly more comfortable with the barber.

In subsequent visits to the shop, the hope is that Abe will remember the confidence and assurance he received from his Emmie, so that he no longer needs her physical proximity to feel safe and cared for.

The goal is for Abe to begin to trust the barber. On his own. Trust earned, confidence established, no Emmie necessary.

Welcome to the real lesson of the story.

The barber, unfamiliar to Abe, but trusted by Emmie.

The barber. Thoughtfully stewarding a pair of very sharp scissors to shape and form.

…he prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more. You have already been pruned and purified by the message I have given you. John 15: 2-3

Jesus, unfamiliar to many who walk beside us, but trusted by us.

Our first step with the uncertain and unfamiliar may be to share the barber chair with them. Wrapped in arms of thoughtful love and care. Assured by the unamplified voice of proximity. Confidence imputed.

But the goal is not to forever share the barber chair, but to ultimately trust the barber. To trust him with the sharp scissors. Not because he won’t use them, but because he will. With skill and love and care and vision and hope.

While Emmie was ever so important to Abe… it’s ultimately the barber that matters most. The True Barber. The One True Barber.

Trustworthy. Gifted. Good. Holy. Just. Righteous. All powerful. All knowing.

With scissors.

He is worthy of our ultimate trust.

We wear a black cape for a season, but only for a season. And then faith and trust replace our arms.

The One True Barber.

{ 0 comments… add one now }

Leave a Comment

Previous post:

Next post: