Oscarmania

I’m old enough to remember when Oscar Meyer wieners were synonymous with picnicking. In my child’s dresser-drawer pile of collectibles I once had a little brown wiener-shaped whistle with the company’s logo. Today, I supposed it might be worth something to a collector. Sorry, it went to the great cemetery of trinkets.

Then there’s the old-fashioned name of “Oscar.” I suppose somewhere in my Norwegian heritage there was an “Oscar.” It’s only two layers away in my husband’s Scotch-Irish lineage, with his maternal grandfather. I discouraged any thoughts of naming our firstborn “Oscar,” as his unfortunate initials would have been “OZ,” as in “Wizard of…” (I also joked about this for a name: Xerxes Yardley Zornes. Nobody else would have had luggage monogrammed “XYZ.”)

But the “Oscar” that amuses and perplexes me the most is the “Oscarmania” that surfaces in the doldrums of February. It’s one huge party that Hollywood puts on to pat itself on the back. It’s when the stars glitter in gowns styled for maximum exposure. And as is true in any contest, only one name is in the sealed envelope, but everybody has worked hard in his or her part of the profession.

The worldly values that Hollywood has espoused for years are not mine. I applaud, not the so-called “winners,” but those working inside the industry who are Christ-followers and seeking to honor Him. It’s not easy.

I was thinking about our Hollywood-flavored, pleasure-seeking culture when I ran across the word “pleasure” in scripture. We’re told that our adoption into God’s family came “in accordance with [God’s] pleasure and will” (Ephesians 1:5). As we seek to live according to God’s purposes for us, we’re to remember that “it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure” (Philippians 2:13 KJV). Our English word for “pleasure” usually connects to the idea of something that satisfies my human desires or is “fun.” But the Greek word used here, eudokia, denotes something that pleases because it is good and right. When God is pleased with something, it’s because it reflects His perfect, generous, gracious character. That lifts our whole purpose to high levels, of exalting and pleasing God.

Somehow, “Oscarmania” in Hollywood doesn’t measure up. There’s a critical emptiness beyond the trophies and toasts. The apostle Paul didn’t bring attention to his wealth, good looks or gowns. He lived on missionary support, was reputedly short and plagued with eye problems, and wore the same basic outfit every day. But as his career came to an end, this is what he anticipated as his eternal prize: “Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing” (2 Timothy 4:8). In my book, that beats any golden statue.