What Do You Expect?

In 1997, the International Brotherhood of Teamsters struck against United Parcel Service. It was one of the more dismal moments in UPS history, and one of the most significant moments in my history with the company: I learned received confirmation that neither side of the argument was any better than the other; I saw a disgustingly childish and vulgar level of bitterness and retaliation from both organizations. And I saw management who for sixteen days had crossed picket lines, worked ridiculous hours, and dug in wherever necessary, rewarded with barely a "thank you," and the excuse that the strike had done such significant financial damage to our company, no raises would be available to us the following year. "Time to tighten 'our' belts." Translation: your.

A couple years later: 9-11. Shortly after that: recession. Still "no money for raises." Nothing seemed to be breaking, except the spirits of UPS' frontline management. Not much has changed. Promotions are "fixed." The fat cats at the top give themselves ungodly raises. And the poor schmucks in the trenches remain just that -- poor and in the trenches. As a fabulous perk, the quality of management has deteriorated for myriad reasons; most of the folks promoted these days couldn't hold a candle to some of the less talented folks I worked with in the past. But I'm not complaining -- really I'm not -- just trying to prove a point: if I receive recognition; if the obnoxious, good-for-nothing I am forced to work beside gets what's coming to him; if I get a raise; if one of the capitalist swine sitting in the next board meeting decides to read some of the wisdom penned by Jim Casey and his constituents upon founding this company, and vows to return it to the people-centered success story it was, I will consider it a huge bonus. If not, it will be just another day in corporate America.

Pessimistic? Not necessarily. Realistic, I think. Last year I opened my check to find the largest raise I've received in years. Not like the "good ol' days," but definitely a step in the right direction. I was surprised; elated, in fact. My raise actually covered the increase in the price of my benefits this year! (Snarky, I know; but true.) Take a look around. Do you see many other companies that are treating their employees any better? It doesn't take a Rhodes Scholar to see people are -- literally -- starving for work; with a job market like this is anyone is going to pamper their workforce? I'd be nuts to walk into work tomorrow expecting them to tell me, "It's 'Waxing Wages Wednesday,' and we are going to pay you a double time just for coming in today!" Not gonna happen. And it's not personal; just capitalism in the hands of a worldly few; those with power taking advantage of those without.

So why are Christians so taken aback by all this? Why do we think we are entitled to good health, financial prosperity, wonderful marriages, exemplary kids -- or kids at all, white picket fences, and sound minds? Even Jesus told us: "In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." He told us that so we would have peace about it: don't expect much from this world but trouble; I am your refuge and strength, and you are not of this world anyway! I don't expect a 39% raise this year: I'm not on the board of a large corporation; I don't expect the world to be a kinder, gentler place to me (or anyone else, for that matter) I don't belong to it. Why are Christians surprised by problems we encounter? Why do Christians even think they are our problems? Do you think Satan gives a rip whether you pay your mortgage or not? He doesn't care, just as long as it keeps the kingdom of God from prospering. If poverty keeps you discouraged -- Great! If a windfall keeps you distracted -- Fine! His beef is with God, and he'll use you anyway he can to accomplish his purposes.

If we as Christians get all caught up in this temporal stuff: what we deserve; how we're being plagued, we miss the point. This life has been entrusted to us, and we can choose to work as we are (hopefully) training to do, or we can expect something Jesus Himself has told us we are not going to get. We can rise up when the battle reaches our territory, fighting in the power of Jesus' name, or we can freeze like deer in the headlights, panicked because we are under attack.

“The point of your life is to point to Him." ― Francis Chan, Crazy Love: Overwhelmed by a Relentless God  

Let's get to that, and let God handle the circumstances.

Say the Words I Love to Hear

This could be a post about the return of our little darlings to eight hours of "disciplined" learning, and our homes to order and tranquility. This could be a post about the restoration of Hillary Clinton's integrity and the likelihood of her Presidential success. This could be a post about the public lynching of a Kentucky county clerk, or the rescinding of the Supreme Court's legalization of same-sex marriage -- depending on which side of the fence you reside. This could be a post about winning the lottery, or a cancer-free PET scan, or a cure for ALS -- or AIDS -- or even narcolepsy. How about a new job, a first job, retirement, adoption, marriage proposal or a long-awaited divorce decree? What do you want? What are the words you long to hear?

As I sat down at my computer this morning, I looked at my Verse of the Day, found in Psalm 143. As I went back a couple of verses, to the beginning of the chapter, I read these words:

"Hear my prayer, O Lord,
Give ear to my supplications!
In Your faithfulness answer me,
And in Your righteousness."

I hate to gloss over anything, but in the interest of time, my thoughts went something like this:

• How great is it The God of the Universe even cares what is on my heart? Do I ever fully contemplate, or spend time appreciating that?
• He listens -- and answers -- because of who He is: not because I do anything worth bragging about, or I am a pretty big deal or anything. He answers because it is His nature to be faithful to His people and the promises He has made to them.

And this is the one that sort of got me to where I'm going with all this:

• He answers in His righteousness.

How pleasing it is to hear the things we want to hear. How happy it makes us to hear accolades and promises. But, how much better to hear truth! How much better to hear what is right!

Just as I was typing this last line, my phone rang. My baby was towed from the driveway this morning. (Relax, my baby is a truck.) My mechanic was calling to discuss with me his diagnosis and, of course, his fee. He is well acquainted with my baby, and I can't say he is particularly fond of her. How happy we would both be if he said it would be a simple fix, threw a Band-Aid on the problem and sent us on our way. Cheap and easy. I might get a week or two out of her. But sooner or later I'd find myself on the phone with AAA, baking somewhere by the side of the road, angry I'd been sold a bill of goods, and ready to wring my mechanic's neck. He too, would be happy for a time. But sooner or later, as telling people what they want to hear became common practice, he would find himself very low on difficult customers and equally as low on cash!

God tells us the truth -- always! We can know that that which is right will come to pass at the word of the Lord.

What would I love to hear God say to me? That I could quit my "real job," and write full-time. That my writing would be successful enough to support us well. That our children would all experience God's forgiveness and, in turn, be able to forgive others. That my mother's health would improve. That my friends who are feeling "at the end of their rope," would know what it means to experience peace. And that all of this will happen some time before 3:00 this afternoon.

But I want God to tell me the truth. I want God to work His will in His time. I want the truth of God to change who I am and make me whole. I want God to develop in me the heart of a true prayer warrior, a true believer -- even if He never says the things I'd love to hear. 

Life Is Bigger Than A Single Moment

I was getting ready to go grocery shopping with my mother the other day. I grabbed my keys and clipped them to the belt loop of my shorts as I always do. I gathered up my wallet, my water, double-checked that I had my coupons, and headed for the door. The second I opened it to leave I realized I didn't have my keys. I ran back upstairs to find my keys hanging on the hook where I always keep them. Now, some of you who know me may shrug this off and say, "Yeah, she can be pretty scatter-brained." And I can. But I wanna tell you, not this time. I know. For a fact. I clipped my keys to my belt loop. And it got me thinking about time. What could it have been about those twenty seconds it took me to back track? Was God saving me from something, or saving me for something? And yes, I do believe it was a "God thing."

Scott and I witnessed an accident today. A guy was pretty badly hurt. How could five seconds -- three seconds either way have changed his life? How did one simple, seemingly insignificant decision determine the course of events today? What if he had decided to stay home? or go a different route? What if the other driver had stopped just a second longer at the Stop sign three blocks back? or caught the green light at the last intersection? What if Scott and I had decided to shorten our walk? or leave just a minute later?

Some people think that God is like an investor, laying out His capital, relying on someone or something else to do all the menial labor. He sits up on His cloud, and only checks in on His investment every so often, just relaxing and lying back reaping all the dividends. Outside of the fact, I can't imagine there'd be huge returns on a world full of people who seem bent on killing one another, I don't believe God is that impersonal. Matthew 10:29-31 tells us:

"Are not two sparrows sold for a copper coin? And not one of them falls to the ground apart from your Father’s will. But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows."

Sparrows like to nest in the ivy on the front of our house.  Not some cute little family of Dad and Mom, little baby sparrow and, maybe her protective older brother. No, family after family. Flitting in and out constantly. Dive-bombing me when I go to leave the house. Chirping loudly and frantically at all hours. Dropping dead babies out of the nest, right onto our doorstep. And let's not mention their bathroom habits. Dir-T. But God cares. He knows when that littlest one leaves the nest and soars into the blue -- or doesn't. How much more will He care for you?

The decisions we make every day, some of which seem inconsequential either way, affect things, affect us, affect others. Let's live like life is bigger than a single moment, and let's be thankful we have a caring, loving God who sees the big picture.

Are You Tough Enough?

We buried my uncle a couple of weeks ago. He was 94. The last time I'd seen him, he told me the story of how he'd gone in for surgery and his lungs were so deteriorated, they packed them with talcum powder and closed him up. That was four years ago. As a child I loved family get-togethers; sitting at my uncles' feet and listening to their outrageous tales. They were a wild bunch. And tough, every last one of them.

As a kid, I was a brainy little butterball with Coke bottle glasses and bad hygiene. When it comes to being bullied, I was asking for it. What I didn't ask for, was to be betrayed by an adult; to have my childhood ripped from me and to experience the most heinous feeling of helplessness -- for years. I don't think my high school diploma had grown warm in my hands before I decided no one was ever going to tell me what to do again. And I would never, ever, ever be anyone's victim. I smoked, I partied, I fought, I drove like the devil, I lifted weights, I engaged in reckless behavior (the more reckless, the better) and I cussed like a sailor's potty-mouthed parrot. Smile was something I did when I cut someone down or pissed someone off. Laughter was always at the other guy's expense. Crying was out of the question. And sincerity was -- well, sincerity was a myth. I never told people I loved them, or I told everyone I loved them. It really didn't matter, because I wasn't going to love anyone anyway. To love, you had to be stupid enough to trust someone. To love, you had to be weak enough to need someone. To love, you had to be willing to do what you were sometimes asked to do. None of that was going to happen. 

As a more than middle-aged adult, I have begun to realize something (and it might just be making a few people uncomfortable) but being tough is the last thing I want to be. Being tough doesn't do anybody any favors. Tough doesn't keep you from losing people that you really love. Tough doesn't keep you from cancer, or divorce, or problems with your children. Tough doesn't keep you from going through the same things others go through; it just keeps you going through them alone. Tough is like a callous, or a piece of shoe leather. Sure it keeps stuff out or protects you from wear and tear but is that really what you want? To indiscriminately keep everything out, or to arrive at the end of life with absolutely no signs of having lived it? I'm learning how much better it is to be strong. Strong takes the hit, but having taken it, emerges victorious; Tough sort of avoids the hit altogether. Tough says,"This doesn't hurt;" Strong says, "Sure it hurts, but I'm gonna make it." Tough says,"I'm not scared;" Strong says, "I am terrified, but I'm going through it anyway." Tough is more like denial; Strong is more like actually living courageously. 

A few years ago, I apologized to a roomful of people -- about a hundred -- many of whom I'd known all my life -- for the way I'd behaved when I was tough. I don't think I've ever felt stronger.