Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Thank You, Thank You, Sam-I-Am!

Personal inspiration sometimes comes in the most unexpected ways. This point was emphasized to me while I was reading the Dr. Seuss classic "Green Eggs and Ham" to my three-year-old the other night.

Being a father to five children ages nine and under, I spent most of the book sympathising with the grouchy, nameless narrator, as he was pestered relentlessly by Sam-I-Am. Rewinding the day's events in my mind, I could hear myself saying:

"No, you can't have a Popsicle in a box."
"No, you can't eat a pre-dinner candy bar with a fox."
"No, you can't ride your bicycle in the house."
"No, you can't touch that dead mouse."
"No, you can't torture your sister, here or there."
"No, you can't get your way by nagging, NEVER, ANYWHERE!!!"

So it came as a little surprise to me when all of a sudden, at the end of the book, I found the tables turned in my mind, and I became Sam-I-Am.

For reasons unexplained, when I read the last pages of the book where the nameless narrator has a change of heart and cracks a smile of genuine gratitude ("I do so like Green Eggs and Ham. Thank you, thank you, Sam-I-Am!"), I found myself thinking about loved ones that were struggling with various issues. I found myself thinking about friends and co-workers who are not of my faith. I found myself thinking about all the unhappy, nameless narrator figures in the world--millions of them--who are missing out on the highest joys in life, just because they have never had, or taken, the opportunity to taste their first bite of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

And I understood why Sam-I-Am was so persistent in his invitation: the Gospel is just too good, and too important, to let the issue rest. We can't afford to give up on anyone.

So we give an invitation to learn the Gospel in our house.
If that doesn't work, we wait a while and then give an invitation to learn it with a mouse.
If still refused, we patiently wait, and then issue and invitation to learn it on a train.
If needed, we wait a while longer, and then invite to learn it in the rain.
And in a car.
And in a tree.
We love our nameless narrators too much; we just can't let them be.

We never give up hope that someday, somehow, even if it takes decades of cumulative, patient, sincere, love-motivated persistence, our friends and family will eventually take their first bite and taste the sweetness of the Gospel.

The narrator's change of heart is complete, so much that he would eat Green Eggs and Ham here or there, say he would eat them anywhere. And the last page of the book shows the two of them standing together and smiling, having shared something great together.

And if it so be that you should labor all your days in crying repentance unto this people, and bring, save it be one soul unto me, how great shall be your joy with him in the kingdom of my Father! (D&C 18:15)

How true it is. And for your example, Thank you, thank you, Sam-I-Am!

3 comments:

  1. Very cute! My old roommate Angie sent me a book of Green Eggs and Ham with a missionary version taped inside of it. It was hilarious! And this post goes along so well with our sacrament meeting today about proclaiming the gospel.

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  2. I'm glad you liked it. Needless to say, learning a spiritual lesson from Green Eggs and Ham was unexpected.

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  3. Unexpected. That's an understatement, assuming you had the same thrash-metal version of this story running through your head as I do right now.

    (Sorry, hope I didn't detract from the spirit of your blog!)

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