These thoughts are about KNIVES – maybe in all caps. Somehow, that didn’t seem a politically correct title, though all my life has been centered appropriately around knives and their various uses. Way before the time of checking for security at an airport, owning a knife was a rite of passage for boys. Handing it over was preceded by a lecture on proper care and appropriate use. Variations of mumbelty-peg were played by boys during recess at school while girls drew hopscotch diagrams or jumped rope. Tales of knives abounded. My dad gave one to a great-nephew, left him on our front porch alone, and by the time he came back, the lad had carved a wiggly T O on a wooden post in hopes of leaving his name as a mark. Those two letter still remain. At a camp meeting in West Texas, antsy teenagers, forced to attend, sat at the back of the tent and whittled while not paying attention to the sermon.
Some form of a sharp blade has been around since the first steps away from foraging and gathering. Early life learned to flake flint to make a blade to hold in a hand or later attach to a pole for that almost unpronounceable word for an spear – atlatl. Different metal ages progressed and prized weapons were made of Damascus forged steel. In frontier times, the Bowie knife was designed for Jim Bowie’s conquests and is now specifically recognized. Knives did not all have to be for fighting. A filet knife was tucked in the back of a tackle box to clean the catch before you left the lake. Supposedly, a Swiss Army knife with its white cross could present any blade you needed for survival. Individual knives are presented when grilled steaks are the center of a meal.
How many knives are in your kitchen depends of on how specific your needs are. I have a large chef’s knife for slicing roasts and a smaller version that rotates to chop piles of onions. A serrated blade is needed for slicing bread, My favorites are paring knives in varying lengths. A son bought me a set of J.A. Henckels knives when he had access to a military base in Europe. Some households prefer an on counter block to store knives and some a magnetic strip near a stove. I have a special knife block that fits in a drawer to hold my set. Always at hand in a center slot is a long sharpening rod. I felt a certain pride when I could hold a knife in one hand and rotate the wrist of the other hand to hone a sharp edge.
Knives are special because along with the instrument itself are the hands that hold them. My mother lay quarters of bell peppers flat with one hand, thumb tucked under, in order to slice strips of red and green to garnish a salad. My daddy cracked a coconut and sat at the kitchen table, carefully inserting a knife tip under each piece to pop the white meat out, ready to grate for ambrosia. A Floridian relative could start at the top of an orange and circle down just under the pith to finish at the bottom with an continuous spiral. A sharp knife in the right hands is useful for its intended purpose: to cut away, to open up, to reveal what matters.
God means what he says. What he says goes. His powerful Word is sharp as a surgeon’s scalpel, cutting through everything, whether doubt or defense, laying us open to listen and obey.
Hebrews 4:12
Let Me Tell Ya 