Monty Python’s Flying Circus used to a have a skit where a van with a Confuse A Cat painted on the side would pull in front of a cat. Out would jump several uniformed workers who would do silly things and then drive off. I too enjoy confusing cats, dogs, small children, and bewildered college students.
It is easy to confuse Mira when playing fetch in the cemetery. We have been there so often she thinks she knows where I am going to throw the ball. Often if I hold the ball up, she will head off in the direction she thinks the ball is going. Sometimes I don’t notice her inattention and throw the ball another direction. When she looks back, she sees my empty hands but has no idea of where the ball has gone. I end up retrieving the ball myself. I have learned to call her attention back to the ball in my hand before tossing it. (But what if she is only pretending not to know where the ball is to make me fetch it? Hmmm.)
Familiarity not only breeds contempt—it breeds confusion. We often think we know what God is doing because we know what he has done in the past. So we take off in the wrong direction—and like a confused dog wonder how we missed His will. We love formulas, programs, and seminars based on how God did stuff in the past or in some other place. Much harder but less confusing is to wait on God and see which way He throws the ball.
