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To say that I’m a fan of technology is akin to saying that Captain Ahab was mildly interested in a certain white whale. Tech isn’t just my job, but my obsession.

My first smartphone was a Samsung Blackjack. It horrible battery life, a small screen, and ran Windows Mobile 6.something. I hung onto it until the iPhone 3G was out. I mean what’s the sense of upgrading from a phone with 3g to one without (the original iPhone)? Am I right?

So I waited for the 3GS.

It was, after the Samsung, a revelation. It was a pure joy to use. Until it got glitchy (between the two of us, my wife and I went through 5 3Gses–all replaced under warranty).

Then there was the iPhone 4. Sleeker, glass front and back. It was fun, but more of the same. Its limitations chafed.

So I jailbroke it.

This opened up a whole new world of themes, ringtones, hacks, tweaks, etc. My phone felt like it was mine again.

Until I updated iOS to the then-latest release. And then began the waiting. Again. For the savvy wiz kids to release a new jailbreak.

I got tired, and a little bored, with iOS. So I switched to Android. The difference was, well, like the difference between Mac and PC: dissimilar ways of doing the same things.

But, while Android gave me more flexibility–more freedom–this came at a price: the experience hasn’t been as fluid (or as stable) as iOS.

So I rooted my Droid to clear out carrier bloatware, and strip the phone down to closer to a stock Android setup. It’s certainly cleaner. More as it was designed to be.

Bear with me here, but this seems to be what God is desiring to do in our lives: He wants to root us, strip us down to what He designed us to be.

To bring us back to the purest essence of ourselves.

He wants to clear out the cruft so the purity of Christ shines through. This doesn’t mean we’ll all be Moto Xes, or HTCs, but we will be changed into His image and likeness.

Which will express itself through whichever theme He has skinned us with.

Have you let Christ root your heart?

Yesterday was hard. Tomorrow is not guaranteed. In my quest to achieve a better today (all that each of us truly has anyway), I’ve been delving into the root causes of some my habitual behaviors.

Those patterns of relating that are borne of the intersection of nature, nature, and inclination.

What I’m finding is sobering.

I’m finding that seemingly innocuous, well-meaning words have the power to shape the course of a life.

Don’t believe me?

Consider this: as a small child, when I got a scrape, a bruise, a “boo-boo,” in an effort (I suppose) to toughen me up, I was told to say “I’m alright.”

Thing is, scrapes hurt. There wasn’t the “Are you okay?” Rather, I heard “You’re alright.”

Repeat something enough times, and it gets internalized. Becomes a part of our inner monologue.

So it was, on a visit to my grandmother’s house, and while playing hide-and-seek, I fell through the well cover. Did I cry out “Help?” Or “Help me?”

No.

Louder and louder I shrieked “I’m alright! I’M ALRIGHT!!! I’M ALRIGHT!!!!”

But of course I wasn’t–I was a small boy on the verge of falling into a well, with the very real possibility of drowning. Fortunately, my grandmother found me, and kept me from falling down the well.

“I’m alright” became my modus operandi, my life philosophy. Even when, especially when, things were most decidedly not alright. Here’s the thing: rather than toughen me up, prepare for the harsh realities of life, this little phrase served instead to crush whatever empathy my burgeoning soul possessed.

To this day, I have to work at feeling with, and for, someone. Because they, too, are alright.

Even when they’re not.

And that is the big power of little words.

God help me.