enough is enough
Moving day, more than any other day, makes you keenly aware of how much junk you really own.
On Saturday my mom and dad and some good friends helped me (finally) move into my new house, a process that involved carrying roughly 3,267 boxes of stuff plus two couches, three chairs, a desk, four bookshelves, an iron bed frame and the heaviest dining room table ever made. As I do every time I move (this was the fifth one in eleven years), I found myself amazed at how much I’ve accumulated—14 antique china place settings and three matching salad plates (Grandma was prone to dropping things). Dozens of books I fully intend to read. Half-used hair products. Barbie dolls with complete outfits. The original packaging for Standard’s 1984 VBS craft kit featuring my smiling face.
So, some seriously good stuff. 
And I wondered again, for at least the fifth time, if it’s wrong to have so much when most of the world has so little.
I’ve written about this before, and reading a blog post by Steve Denney stirred up the same questions. He quotes from Peter Singer, who asserts that while all of us would rush into a pond to save a drowning toddler without hesitating to worry about ruining our nice shoes, many of us struggle to metaphorically “wade in” and help save the 10 million children under five who die from poverty each year.
“Prompted by the pages of Singer’s book, it just seems wrong that I buy bottled water when I can get it from the tap,” Steve writes. “That I waste money on coffee. That I throw away food that I cannot eat (or don’t want to eat).”
I’m reminded of Schindler’s List, when the war ends and Oskar Schindler realizes every belonging he kept—each ring, each car, each suit—could have rescued another Jew from the death camps. When I watch that movie I condemn him; of course he should have sold the gold ring and flashy car to save more people. When lives are at stake, shouldn’t someone give all he can?
Steve’s point is people still die, and we face the same choices. Shouldn’t we give all we can?
But if I get rid of everything, I’ll be poor and others will have to take care of me. So that’s not the answer. Do I keep just enough to live on and give away the rest? Define “live on”—what does that include? Rice and beans and a vitamin pill, or can I have steak and ice cream occasionally? How often? Yes, coffee IS a necessity, but how about soda? One a week?
What about health insurance and retirement savings? I trust God to take care of me, but often He does that by allowing me to plan responsibly. Is it a sin to live modestly yet keep megabucks in my IRA?
The real question is when “enough” becomes excess. We all spend money on non-essentials, and it’s easy to judge others. Some could see my move as an acquisitional move up, although my new mortgage payment is actually less than my rent and in many ways this purchase was about good stewardship. On the other hand, a few of my friends recently sold their own houses, downsized to rentals or condos, and give the difference to causes they care about.
Like Steve, I have become increasingly aware of just how much money I waste. But with each passing year, each passing move, I also become convinced this is one more gray area in a faith we often prefer black and white. Enough becomes too much when it becomes more important than obedience to Christ, and He asks each of us to sacrifice in different ways. I’m glad He hasn’t asked me to give up coffee yet.
good news, bad news: the moving edition
Good news: I can still fit in my high school prom dresses.
Bad news: I know this because they are all hanging in my closet and must be carted to Goodwill/schlepped to the new house/thrown away.
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Good news: I scored a great deal on a good refrigerator with an automatic icemaker.
Bad news: It won’t be delivered until August 6.
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Good news: My lawn is receiving lots of free fertilizer.
Bad news: From the many neighborhood dogs who aren’t on leashes during the day.
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Good news: It is remarkably easy to balance my checkbook.
Bad news: This is a direct result of having no money in my checking account.
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Good news: I’ve never been in such good shape.
Bad news: Because I’ve lifted everything I own at least four times.
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Good news: I know how to fix incorrectly attached lawnmower handles, pry up cracked peel and stick tile, and clean paint goofs off baseboards.
Bad news: Figure it out.
There is always something to be thankful for, so I’m focusing on the good news. Hey, if I ever get invited to another prom, I’m SET.
the parent trap
When I was young, my parents determined what I ate, what I wore and—as much as is possible with a strong-willed child—how I behaved. (They also determined the punishments when I misbehaved.) That’s what parents do.
Now my folks and I relate as adults. I still honor their role, and I try to submit to them as I would to any other believer, but all three of us set boundaries and make our own choices. We even argue occasionally.
In last week’s enews from Crossroads Christian Church in Anthem, AZ, lead pastor Steve Wyatt wrote about the difference between parent-child forms of interaction (in which one participant assumes a domineering role and the other passively submits) and the adult-adult form (in which two adults relate to each other as peers).
Steve says, “Far too often, the church traffics in the realm of the Parent-Child relationship. Leaders function in the role of the authoritative “Dad” and faithfully discharge their duties in a rather dictatorial fashion.
In some church traditions, Christians aren’t taught how to think, they’re told what to think. They’re handed a creedal statement and told to memorize it. Young people are given lists of ‘Do’s and Don’ts’ rather than schooled in the art of discernment and wisdom…..
The fact is, the single most popular approach in religion is the Jim Jones model of discipleship (remember him?). He’s the grape Kool-Aid cult leader who led nearly 1000 people to follow him right into the jaws of self-imposed death. That’s the approach of many in religious circles: Treat your flock like mindless children. Demand their acquiescence. Keep them dependent on you and you alone for life’s answers. Create dependency over discipleship.
That’s the Parent-Child approach to church leadership. And it works. In fact, dare I say it? Most of the so-called ‘megachurches’ in our culture function according to this model.”
These are bold statements. And, in some ways, correct ones. I know several megachurch ministers who prefer this parent-child method. (I’ll send you a list for $19.95 plus shipping and handling.)
I also know some who take this approach with their staff; in fact, just last week I heard about another one, a pastor who, without all the facts, belittled a staff member’s ministry and questioned the person’s key relationships under the guise of helping the person “be a good example.” Instead of acting like a spiritual leader, inviting the staff member’s perspective, or—at the least—treating the person like a team member, the pastor mandated conformity to his uninformed ideas of what the staffer’s life should look like.
But I also know senior leaders who quite rightly would bristle at the implication they want church members or staff to mindlessly follow them. Of course, they teach the scriptures unapologetically; adult-adult relationships are not about diluting the truth or making everyone feel good. But some issues really do have more gray than black and white, and many leaders really do want people to study, pray, and develop their own faith.
Which is also God’s preference. If anyone has the right to invoke a parent-child dynamic, it’s the Father, but he requires us to make choices, experience consequences and “work out our salvation with fear and trembling.”
It’s easier, quicker, and more satisfying in the short term to tell people what to think, how to behave, or how to feel; it’s much more difficult and time-consuming to dialogue, explain, and listen. It requires more maturity to accept conflict and messiness as part of the process, and to accept that the process may take decades.
Basically, it requires people to be adults, and the root problem is many leaders—in and outside the church—never learned to relate this way. In these situations we must still honor their roles and submit to their authority. But we can also set boundaries, make choices, and even argue occasionally. It’s what adults do.
21 club
Many of my blog entries lately have been lists. Well, it’s summer, and attention spans are shorter; no one wants to read an essay on why I think high schools should expand sex education beyond abstinence. (Actually, only about four of you probably did the first time.)
Plus, today my friend Jon celebrates his 21st birthday and his parents asked friends and family to share a word of encouragement, favorite scripture, or life lesson to mark the occasion.
Presumptuously, I decided to send 21 lessons, because Jon is one of the few people in my life a) easygoing enough to appreciate piles of unsolicited advice and b) young enough to possibly think I might have some wisdom worth sharing.
But I’m not alone—I’m sure you have some good advice for this young man, too, so add what I’ve missed. The happy birthday email I just sent him directs him here to read the full list, so he’ll see your comments, too. And I’ll come up with something non-listy for next time.
21 things to remember as you turn 21:
1. Once in a great while, you get better results from being so assertive you’re almost rude. (A recent phone conversation with Comcast, i.e. the worst company on the planet, comes to mind.) 98% of the time kindness is the way to go.
2. It’s okay to skip over the long census lists when reading Numbers.
3. The person who talks the loudest isn’t always the person who’s right.
4. Elisabeth Elliot’s father taught his sons to only say “I love you” to a woman if prepared to follow it up with “Will you marry me?” This may not be an entirely practical idea today, but the principle is still good: do not mislead a girl, and don’t give her 100% of your heart until you’ve made a lifetime commitment to her.
5. Ditto on giving her 100% of your body.
6. Ask if the cat constantly pukes before you adopt it.
7. Learn the difference between their/there/they’re and its/it’s. Sadly, if you use these words correctly you’ll seem more professional and better educated than 75% of the population.
8. Find at least three vegetables you like and eat two of them every day. It’s okay if cheese is involved. Corn and potatoes don’t count.
9. Some people will be your friend for just a phase or a season, and a few will be your friend your whole life. Both groups are valuable, but be sure to take care of the lifers.
10. When you get the chance to travel somewhere, anywhere, take it.
11. You cannot change people. The best you can do is change how you respond to them or how you let them affect you.
12. Be nice to the waiter. Tip well.
13. If you get stranded in Ft. Wayne, IN two days before Christmas in the biggest snowstorm to hit the east coast in ten years, and the little dude with a scraggly mustache informs you your luggage didn’t make it, remember #1 and insist on viewing the collected baggage to make sure. It will be there.
14. Do not use your credit card as an emergency fund, and balance your checkbook every month.
15. Wear sunscreen.
16. It’s not only ethical to be honest, it’s also easier. You don’t have to keep your stories straight, and you can handle small issues before they become ginormous.
17. In all the Michael Jackson hoopla, I re-watched his 1983 performance of “Billie Jean.” As tragic as the rest of his life became, those 4 1/2 minutes are inspiring; he was born to sing and dance. St. Irenaeus said that the glory of God is man fully alive. Discover what makes you fully alive and then spend your life pursuing it.
18. Worries seem bigger and scarier at night. Get some sleep and come back to it in the morning.
19. Regularly spend time with four year olds.
20. Some things we find really fun aren’t worth our time, and some things worth our time are completely not fun. Do the important stuff whether it’s fun or not.
21. Just because you’re now old enough to drink legally doesn’t mean you’re old enough to drink too much. Moderation in all things, my friend (even vegetables).
rings of fire
I lied—this vacation does include blogging, if blogging means showing video of my cousin Scott and my brother Geoff ruining a baking sheet from our rent-a-house by spelling “USA” in sparklers. Also included for your viewing pleasure are the “Crackling Salute” explosives I bought and Geoff’s plan to light four of them in tandem.
Yes, fireworks are illegal in North Carolina. What’s your point?
personal checks
Shared a hotel room with my parents for a week……check.
Organized a tea for women in ministry at churches and parachurches…..check.
Met new friend Ruby, age two months, and cuddled against her will…….check.
Drank 278 cups of coffee and ate the best banana pudding ever…….check.
Received “Why aren’t you married yet?” inquiries from seven people……check.
Emceed a luncheon with Tammy Trent and a Bible study with Liz Curtis Higgs…..check.
Participated in encouraging and productive conversations about work projects…..check.
Caught up with special old friends and remembered one more time how blessed I am…….check.
Slept too little……check.
Raised money so the NACC could have a women’s conference this year and coordinated the details……check.
Was thanked for my help……well, maybe next year.
Another NACC is history, and I’m off to the beach for a week—no edifying books, no schedules, and no blogging. Catch you in a week, friends!
