by Steve Higginbotham
My first lesson in hermeneutics came when I was about 8-years-old. I saw a “Tonka Truck” for sale in a local store. It cost $10.00. (Keep in mind that ten dollars in 1970 would be equivalent to $62.00 today). That’s quite a price to pay for a toy truck.
Of course, I didn’t have $10.00, so I went home and pleaded with my dad to buy this truck for me. To my surprise, my dad took me to the store, gave me $10.00 and told me to go in the store and buy the truck. I couldn’t believe it. I excitedly went in the store and discovered that someone else had bought my Tonka truck! Although I was devasted, I realized I was still holding $10.00 in my hand and felt that I at least deserved a consolation prize.
On the next isle over, I found a couple of boxes of baseball cards. In 1970, you could get 10 baseball cards for 10 cents. I quickly did the math and realized I could buy 100 packs of cards, and so I did.
When I returned to the car, my dad asked to see my new truck. I told him someone else bought the truck so I decided to buy 100 packs of baseball cards instead. What followed was my introduction to hermeneutics. I learned the hard way that having my dad’s permission to spend $10.00 on a Tonka truck did not give me permission to spend $10.00 on baseball cards.
In my feeble attempt to defend my actions, I said, “But you didn’t tell me I couldn’t buy baseball cards.” He explained that he didn’t need to tell me all the things in the store I couldn’t buy, and deep down, I understood, but I wasn’t about to admit it.
Today, grown adults are still making the same argument with respect to their religious practices. “But God didn’t say I can’t do this or that.” Must God tell you all the things he doesn’t want you to do? Surely, you can see the folly in such reasoning, and if not, my best guess is that when you were eight years old, your dad never gave you $10.00 to buy a Tonka truck.