Articles
Popeye Syndrome
So, what in this world could compel two otherwise (for the most part) semi-rational little boys to voluntarily be out of bed at 6:00AM on a Saturday aside from Christmas day falling between Friday and Sunday? Well, for my brother and me, one “early to rise” motivator was a much looked forward to weekly event. We’d anxiously get up, quickly eat breakfast, and then turn on the TV so its tubes would be good and warmed up. Now and again, Mama would tie towels around out necks so we’d each be wearing a cape (helped us fly, you know) when at 6:30AM, each and every Saturday, the Indian Chief test pattern on Channel 3 would go away, WREC-TV in Memphis, TN would sign on, and “The Adventures of Superman” would fill our always black and white and more often than not snowy, rolling television screen: And our imaginations.
In those days of innocent, occasionally misspent youth, Superman was one of our heroes. After all, he stood for truth, justice, and the American way. Not a single shade of grey. Not one. He beat up the bad guys. He rescued the good guys from all kinds of dangers. With him being more powerful than a locomotive, faster than a speeding bullet, and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound and all, it was a pretty dumb idea to oppose, fight, or otherwise irritate him and we always knew when things were about to go south for whoever tried. Week after week after week, when Clark Kent ran into a store room, whipped off his glasses and undid his tie, we knew at least one dastardly villain was about to be in deep, deep trouble and/or that help was on the way for some hopelessly imperiled individual. And then, when we heard that big orchestra blaring in the background, heard the wind blowing, and saw Superman flying through the air, we knew all was about to be well with the world: For at least one more week anyhow.
We had other heroes we’d watch on those Saturdays too. And, just as with Superman, we learned to watch for the signals that the bad guys they fought were about to get their fair comeuppance also.
When we heard the cavalry charge of the William Tell Overture, we knew a fiery horse with the speed of light, a cloud of dust, and a hearty “Hi-yo Silver” weren’t far behind and The Lone Ranger (with his faithful Indian companion, Tonto) was on his way to lead the fight for law and order.
When we saw a figure of a man wildly swinging on an oversized vine through the jungles of Africa and we heard that ear-piercing, almost inhuman yell, we knew Tarzan was about to administer his own unique brand of justice and lead a charge of elephants and chimpanzees to the rescue of Jane, Boy, and/or requisite assorted safari members.
We had other heroes too: one in particular that didn’t quite fit the bill of a Superman, Lone Ranger, or Tarzan. This hero was a scrawny, belligerent, slack-jawed, tattooed, one-eyed, spinach-eating, gravelly voiced, pipe-smoking sailor man by the name of Popeye. When in dire straits at the hands of Bluto (Brutus), the Sea Hag, or the citizens of Goonland, and right before he opened and ate a can of spinach that often transformed his arms into jack hammers, buzz saws, or airplane wings, you could almost always count on Popeye to utter various incantations of these words: “I’ve had all I can stands. I can’t stands no more!” Bad English and grammar notwithstanding, when Popeye reached that point, we knew his life was about to change for the better.
Truth told, we (you and me) are considerably more like Popeye than we are Superman. We’ve imperfections that, if not apparent to us, certainly are to those around us. And quite a few of us, like Popeye, come to a point where we need to say, “I’ve had all I can stands. I can’t stands no more”. And,having that need is what I (for lack of anything more literarily creative) like to call, “Popeye Syndrome”.
“And not many days later, the younger son gathered everything together and went on a journey into a distantcountry, and there he squandered his estate with loose living. Now when he had spent everything, a severe famine occurred in that country, and he began to be impoverished. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, and he sent him into his fields to feed swine. And he would have gladly filled his stomach with the pods that the swine were eating, and no one was giving anything to him. But when he came to his senses…”(Luke 15:13-17a NASB)
Without the first bit of disrespect intended to the text, “when he came to his senses” plainly illustrates the notion of “I’ve had all I can stands. I can’t stands no more”.
We turn our back on what we know to be right. We take our own trip into a “distant country”. We spend enough time in some hog pen somewhere to see how stomach-turning it can be. We see what we’ve become and our stomach turns again. We get tied up, messed up, fouled up, and beat up by sin to the point of finally realizing we can’t stands no more. We come to our senses.
And (thankfully, thankfully, thankfully!!) the solution to our predicament doesn’t require nor even remotely involve eating a whole can of cold, wet spinach.
“I will get up and go to my father, and will say to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in your sight; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me as one of your hired men.’” (Luke 15:18-19)
Are you a child of God? Could you use a change for the better in your relationship with Him? Got yourself a good, healthy dose of “Popeye Syndrome”? Had all you can stands and you can’t stands no more? Come to your senses?
Then get up; go to your Father in Heaven; confess your sins; humbly ask to come home. For a Christian, how much easier or better does it get than that? However far away you’ve been from Him, know that your Father sees you. He has His arms open wide. And, He’s waiting for you to come on home.
