Financial Sense and Bad Attitudes - A Confession

Years ago, back when I was single mom, I realized that my financial situation was always going to be one of constant jeopardy. I was raising my kids on less than $10,000 a year, the ex had (and has) forgotten that child support would be nice gesture, and let’s face it, none of my degrees lend themselves to lucrative careers. In fact, I read in one article that if you didn’t want make any money with your college degree, get degrees in the arts, psychology, and religious studies – guess what I have degrees in? The correct answer is all three! I’ve always been an overachiever like that.

Despite all this, I was pretty okay with where I was. Sure the numbers didn’t makes sense, and the fact that we never starved or lived on the streets was due in large part to my family who helped with things like childcare while I worked or went to school, an expense that devastates almost every single mom’s budget. Food was pretty much whatever the tribe was giving out in commodities, what we grew in the family garden, and ramen noodles, but overall, we were happy.

I figured out how to not dwell on our money matters, live within our budget, and to do without things we did not absolutely need. So there weren’t a lot of extras like cable TV, gaming systems, manicures, or trips to the zoo. We just made the best of what we had. It wasn’t always easy and a minor catastrophe like needing new tires or a hot water heater could set us back for months, but somehow things always worked out.

Then I got married. Now, this was a good thing, and I was delighted to have married a hard-working man who was willing to take on the financial risks and responsibilities of me and my two kids. After years of debating on whether or not new socks were really necessary or could be afforded at that particular time, it was liberating to just go to the store and buy socks whenever dang well pleased.

But something happened to me in the past five years, something I didn’t realize until recently.

Somewhere in the midst of being able to buy socks and not having to wonder if fresh oranges were an extravagance, I forgot that my security did not lie in the size of my husband’s pay check.

Now God has a way of getting your attention, and well, he’s been working overtime on me since the first of the year. Ty and I were slammed with several things that sapped our money. Some avoidable with better planning and self-discipline, and some so completely out of our control that I had to wonder if God had sadistic streak. This meant that several of our plans for things we were going to do this year had to be ditched, and I am not talking trips to Tahiti, I am talking about things most people take for granted as part of being a functioning adult in our society. (Which really shows you how much I lost sight of the goal – since when did I ever want to be a function adult?)

To make matters even more poignant, there was about a six week spell in there when I was contacted almost every day by someone celebrating a blessing in their lives. And not just any old run of the mill blessing. No, they were happy because they had received – often unexpectedly or by almost supernatural providence – things that I had specifically expressed a desire for. Seriously, if I said I wanted purple wigwaddle but had recognized it as an unnecessary expense or completely outside my budget for the foreseeable future, one of my friends would suddenly come into possession of a purple wigwaddle. And as part of being a real friend is to rejoice with those who are rejoicing, I did my best to do my part. But let me tell you, after about six weeks of this, I was starting to lose my cool. Not with my friends, they typically had no idea that they were rubbing salt wounds and would have avoided doing so if they had a clue. No, I was losing my cool with God.

After all, HE knew I wanted a wigwaddle and he could have zapped one into my front yard at any given time if he had so desired. But nooooo, he gave it to someone who has absolutely no idea how to properly appreciate a wigwaddle, let alone the proper care and grooming of one.  And as if that wasn’t enough, he was requiring that I be a good sport about it if I were to properly live out my faith. I am not going to lie this is where I demonstrated some pretty awesome acting skills, but inside I was starting to seethe.

Then along comes my child who decides to spend an evening around the fire talking about the days when we had nothing, but when our house was open to everyone, when people showed up unannounced to sit and talk. When our lives were too full to worry about money, and the amazing experiences they allowed us to know as they shared their stories, asked their questions, and wrestled through the hard issues of life on a worn out couch or by an open fire. When people we had just met showed up with bags of groceries to prepare a feast in our home as way to repay for us for the kindness of opening our home to them.

In those days, money was an issue but it was rarely a worry. I knew in my gut that we were going to be alright and nothing could touch us that didn’t pass through the Father’s hand. Times were tough, and God always likes to wait for the last minute before providing an answer, but I had figured out how to rest, to be expectant, and how to deny dread a place in my heart. Perhaps it was because I was more spiritual back then, or maybe it was the only way to survive the uncertainty without going crazy. I don’t know, but I do know that I wasn’t upset about my friends getting the things I wanted. I was genuinely happy for them and their success. Sure sometimes, I had to press through to get there, but I did it with an ease and grace I seemed to have forgotten lately.

And frankly, I don’t like that. I don’t like being a petty person who is so wrapped up in my own angst that I forgot how to rejoice with my friends. So this week I started over. That’s the beautiful thing about this faith we call Christianity, we get to do that. I talked things over with God, let him know how I was feeling, and told him I was going to need some help because some rebellious part of me likes the self-righteous anger I had been entertaining. I told him that despite that I know that is not the truest part of who I am or who I want to be, and that I was sorry for putting my wants ahead of him and what he was trying to do in my life.

I am not going to tell you that since I got my attitude right God is going to send me a $200,000 check in the mail. I mean he might, but if that was the only reason I confronted this ugly bit of me then I sorta missed the point. In fact, that type of expectation would just show that I was still hoping money was going to solve all my problems, not God. See, he’s far more creative in his solutions than any methodologies I would prescribe, and I need to be okay with that. It is part of walking in faith, and even more importantly, it is part of letting God be God without imposing my rules upon him. Because if I were real honest, I have to admit that when I let him do his thing and get out of his way, his methods blow my mind and leave me in awe. I simply do not have the depth of imagination or scope of knowledge to dream up the wondrous things he brings into being, and those are the things I truly want to experience in my life.

So until he does whatever it is he is going to do, I am going to do three things: I am going to faithful with what he has given me. I am going to see every blessing my friends experience as proof that God is still able and willing to bring good things into the lives of those who love him. And I am going to keep my heart and eyes open in expectation for the mind blowing and awe inspiring things I certain he has in store for me, my family, and my friends.

One Of Those Days

So it is going to be one of those days. You know the days where all the reality that you have been shoving aside in order to keep functioning comes rushing past the dam you have so carefully constructed in your mind and heart? Yeah, one of those days.

Bills have come crashing in, people you thought you could count on fail you, and even the stupid computer won’t let me get through a single blog post without wanting to update despite the fact I have limited time to get this done. Oh, the agony of being me! Excuse me while I go rail against the world for a bit, while I lose sight of all the miraculous things that have happened over the past few weeks and months, while I forget all the monsters slain and moldering because there is a fresh wave on the horizon, and I don’t feel like picking up my sword one more time. Instead, I think I will look for a rock to climb under, if I can find one big enough and one not threatening to topple over and crush me.

On days like this I used to tell people that I should have stayed in bed, but with my luck the ceiling fan would fall on me. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when one day the ceiling fan did, in fact, fall. Thankfully, it happened on day I did get out of bed so the damage was limited to a cloud of dust that covered my room. (And by the way, just to be honest, that “thankfully” was obligatory rather than heartfelt. I was rather irritated about the whole affair.)

I try to have the proper attitude. I really do. I suppose I must succeed on some level because people are always telling me how positive and encouraging I am. You’re welcome, glad to help, and that is wonderful. And I do mean it. I want to be an encourager. I make very intentional and carefully weighed decisions about what I say and what I share because encouraging one another is something I think we should all be actively striving to do. How could I expect less of myself than I would of others? So I put effort into being positive.

But sometimes, if we aren’t careful, that turns into hypocrisy. We become those people whose lives seem to scream, “Look at me! See me! I have it all together, why don’t you?” When the truth of the matter is they are falling apart inside and too scared to admit that today they just aren’t feeling it. Today, they just want the freedom to be down and frustrated with this life.

So today, I am frustrated. I am down. I am worn out and done in. Life is too big to be whooped, and I am the one taking a beating. And that is okay.

Notice that I didn’t say it is fun. I didn’t start doing a hallelujah dance or brush it off as inconsequential. My emotions matter. They have a purpose and value. God did not give them to me and then expect me to deny that they are real. He didn’t tell me that path to holiness is in denial of anything that isn’t all rainbow fuzzies and unicorn farts, and he didn’t say that I am sinful to acknowledging how I feel. And most importantly, he didn’t say that I was being unfaithful in feeling this way.

In an age of pop preachers and carefully coiffed TV evangelists who make their living with the promise of happiness, too many of us have started thinking that feeling anything other than a desire to give a gleaming smile to the world is nothing short of sin. It’s time that we get it straight – our sadness and frustration is not a betrayal of God, it is a demonstration of the fact that their shallow theology just won’t cut it in the real world.

But, but, but, we should rejoice in the Lord always! That is what it says in the Bible! You sow happiness and joy so that you can reap happiness and joy! Change your stinking thinking and your emotions will fall into line – oh, the protests I can hear as I type!

I have but one thing to say to all of that: “Jesus wept.”

Now, tell me this, just how sinful was he being in that moment? Be very careful in how you answer that lest you be guilty of blaspheme.

We could dive deeper and read some of his biting remarks to the Pharisees and his disciples. We could stop and consider the Garden of Gethsemane. We could consider Isaiah 53:3.

He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. 

Emotions, even the big bad ugly ones, are not evil. They are not sinful. They just are. You don’t get to legislate them, and you don’t get to turn them off by becoming some spiritual creature who is above such things. Jesus didn’t, why do we think that we should have it better than him? To think such a thing is arrogance, and that is one emotion that the Bible does call sin.

So you own them. You look them in the eye, and see them for what they are. They are real. They are powerful, and they are tools for understanding ourselves and this world we inhabit. They do not define us, they do not get to rule us, but that does not mean they are without value or purpose. Acknowledging how we feel is the first step to authenticity and is an act of integrity and strength. When we gather them all up, take them to Father, and declare the truth of our experience, we are walking in faith and exhibiting hope in the knowledge that he is greater than anything that has hurt our hearts, but we cannot give to Father what we do not own.

For me, today stinks. I don’t want to feel all of this, and I don’t want to deal with all the things that are frustrating me. I just don’t, and that is the truth as plainly as I know how to put it short of a few colorful metaphors. Eventually, I will get past it. I will be able to remember some of the greater truths of my life, and I will find the will to celebrate the good things Father has given me. I will be able to rest in the hope of his promises to me, but not right now. Not in this moment, because it would be a lie and a denial of how he created me. So I will throw my little pity party, I’ll invite Father over and serve him a cup of coffee if he likes, and whine a bit. He will listen, and he won’t patronize or toss Scripture at me. He will acknowledge my pain as valid, and invite me to give it all to him. And in that moment, I will begin to feel the joy of anticipation as I wonder what grand and marvelous thing he will create from my painful honesty.