One of these days I'm going to finish Radical: Taking Back Your Faith from the American Dream.And one day after that I plan to write a review of it. Why has it taken so long for me to get through it? Not lack of time. Not busyness to excess. Not poor writing.
The main reason? Guilt. The feelings of guilt that seize my heart are much greater than the compulsion to love those within my very circle of immediate influence. Going to a third-world country with Bibles, food, and medicine seems more glorifying to God than homeschooling my child, fixing meals for my family, folding the umpteen thousandth load of laundry. Responding to the massive and critical needs of the world seems to trump my family's need for food, clean clothes, and education. Especially when I see how we eat, how many outfits we have, and the quality of education our children are getting.
As I'm reading Radical, I am convicted on one page and compelled by love to give more to the hurting poor of the world, to abandon all my worldly possessions and life in America as I know it, and take the next flight into the depths of the Amazon jungle to find lost people who've never heard the name of Jesus. I fantasize that my husband will suddenly morph into Jim Elliot and I will be his Elisabeth. (But the end won't be tragic for us.) Thinking thoughts like this make me imagine that I'm doing more pleasing work for God than sitting here "a spoiled rich American" taking care of her home and family. Is it not good enough to cheer on my husband to whom God has given the ability to make money and manage it wisely? Why do I think God would be more pleased if we liquidated our assets and gave everything to the poor? Would we not then leave our own children poor, and have no inheritance to give them or their children ( and thereby disregard another scriptural principle)?
There was no lasting peace in my heart while reading the book. Conviction would be sweet, but that's not what's happening. I keep thinking, "I can never do enough. I can't give enough, pray enough, go often enough overseas or into inner city ghettos to measure up to the call of the Great Commission" as David Platt keeps talking about. To me, the balance is missing. It's as if he says, "It's wrong to have wealth and it's wrong for you to be part of a church that has nice buildings." (Granted, I am more at peace in a modest house and a simple church building and would squirm in ones I thought too lavish. Nor do I espouse renting a home or a school gym forever and a day as wise stewardship.)
I am quickly "tripped up" by the swinging pendulum on the issue of giving. How much is enough? Can I buy another pair of shoes when I know there are poor kids with not even one pair? Why do I own more than one Bible when 20 Christians underground in Asia are sharing three pages from a torn New Testament? When is enough enough in our savings account? When we know someone is unemployed in the household of faith, do we give to them, and if so, how much and how often? The needs are overwhelming. Where do you start and where do you end in the helping?
Enter this article, The Generosity Matrix, by JD Greear, directed to me on Facebook by my pastor, Joel Rishel. Greear has enumerated six principles that should be held in tension on the matter of money. The bottom line? Live sufficiently and give extravagantly.
It's a liberating article that I needed to read today--and to revisit whenever I feel the guilt pangs of not giving enough. I particularly needed to read this:
So, have you given enough? The simple truth is this: the Gospel eschews the word “enough” in any context, except in describing Christ’s work on our behalf. “Enough” will most always become a form of compulsion, which Paul says is not to be an operative motive in our giving. “Have I given enough?” is a question that pounds us with guilt and “compels” us to give more to feel good about ourselves. Paul, by contrast, says that God loves free, cheerful givers who give because they absolutely love to, not because they are compelled to (2 Corinthians 9:5).
Showing posts with label money. Show all posts
Showing posts with label money. Show all posts
Monday, January 17, 2011
Monday, March 23, 2009
It Would be Hilarious if I Didn't Think He Meant It
Joel has been learning about coins and dollars, and is quite fast at the math involved with money.
He has this toy cash register that my mom gave him a couple years back. It wasn't half as much fun then as it is now that he understands the value of money.
He has this toy cash register that my mom gave him a couple years back. It wasn't half as much fun then as it is now that he understands the value of money.
More or less.
The cash register has a battery-operated scanner, an attached microphone, bills and coins, and--sadly--a credit card. (It was cute to see Joel had recently signed his name in cursive across the entire back of it.)
Saturday morning he asked, "Mom, will you play money with me? I have a store and this is your money. You can buy whatever you want. Spend it all. You have to spend it all before the game ends." He handed me a stack of ones, fives, tens, and twenties about two inches thick.
"Okay, I'll buy this pencil, this mug, a deck of cards, and a pair of shoes."
He rang up each one like this: 1.00, 2.00, .50, and 9.00. All right. Fair enough.
I still had a lot of cash left.
I then bought a half-used scented candle, a napkin holder, a plate, and a piece of fridge art.
Still had a lot of money left. After a few rounds of spending under 15 bucks, and seeing that it could feasibly take till lunch to blow through my bills, I started racking up what I thought would be larger tab.
"I'll buy this atlas which I think is $30--"
"No--my store is cheap. It's only $20." he informed me joyfully.
Rats. I wasn't looking for a bargain.
"Okay, I'll take the piano," I said, hoping to lay out 300 smackers.
"The piano is also twenty dollars," he said.
"What? Are you crazy? The piano and the book cost the same? "
Saturday morning he asked, "Mom, will you play money with me? I have a store and this is your money. You can buy whatever you want. Spend it all. You have to spend it all before the game ends." He handed me a stack of ones, fives, tens, and twenties about two inches thick.
"Okay, I'll buy this pencil, this mug, a deck of cards, and a pair of shoes."
He rang up each one like this: 1.00, 2.00, .50, and 9.00. All right. Fair enough.
I still had a lot of cash left.
I then bought a half-used scented candle, a napkin holder, a plate, and a piece of fridge art.
Still had a lot of money left. After a few rounds of spending under 15 bucks, and seeing that it could feasibly take till lunch to blow through my bills, I started racking up what I thought would be larger tab.
"I'll buy this atlas which I think is $30--"
"No--my store is cheap. It's only $20." he informed me joyfully.
Rats. I wasn't looking for a bargain.
"Okay, I'll take the piano," I said, hoping to lay out 300 smackers.
"The piano is also twenty dollars," he said.
"What? Are you crazy? The piano and the book cost the same? "
"Yup. Nothing in my store costs more than twenty dollars."
Oh. Okay. I can play that game, happy to see an end in sight.
Well, once I shelled out my last buck, I thanked him and told him he was a good businessman and smart cashier. I got up to head out of the "store."
"Wait!" he exclaimed, waving the plastic Power Card at me. "You still have a credit card! You can buy anything you want. You don't even need money to pay for stuff!"
I think I saw the ghost of Larry Burkett frowning at me from the dining room.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Honk if you Love Christmas Shopping
Now that all but one wreath is made that I've promised, I went out today and did the bulk of the Christmas shopping for my three older kids. Joel's was already done. Paul gave me a budget (which is always less than I want to spend but still quite reasonable) and I stuck to it. I made my list and stuck to it. I resolved not to be like everybody else on the highway and in line, and I stuck to it. Almost.
Let me explain. It was all in the perspective I chose this year.
In traffic I did not get impatient, even though at most intersections it took three "rotations" of the light before I got through. I just pretended we were all part of a big club and this is what we do. We form single file parallel lines and stay close together. We have multiple destinations but a single purpose.
When people honked at each other, I chose to think how cool it would be if we could all honk a Christmas carol during our wait times. My van horn is kind of medium-pitched, like a "G' above middle C. Most truck horns are deep,like a bass note; little sports cars hit the higher notes. I'd love to see a used car dealership do this someday--hire a crew to play a holiday tune on their lot, using car horns. I'd pay money to hear "Silent Night" like that one day. Of course, it would be a misnomer.
When I was wandering around perplexed about where "they" keep such-and-such in this particular store (I'm being vague since sometimes my kids read this blog), I was just thankful I had these kids to buy for. I was thankful for a decent budget, and for kids who really don't ask for much.
The only time I had ill feelings was when I was in this same store and was ushered to Register 6 with just three things in hand, but these two women jumped line (actually "staggered" into it with blinders on is more like it--I don't think they realized there WAS a line, or else there were pretending to be oblivious). Between them they had a stack of clothes a good foot and a half high. When the young, clean-shaven cashier was almost finished taking the last shirt off the hanger, one of the women asks him, "Do you have such and such kind of socks?" He says yes and tells her where they are. What a nice guy. (Do you see my tongue lodged solidly in my cheek?) Lady says "Ill be back in a sec. " Well, I don't know what planet she comes from, but on this one, a sec is not time enough to ring up a pack of gum, let alone get out of a line (that one has jumped/staggered into to start with) and go hunt for socks.
She comes back and the package says "7 Socks, 7 Days." Whoa! No kidding. Boy, nowadays companies, not fourth-grade teachers, teach ratios to consumers who can't figure that out on their own. But then again, maybe her kids get 3 days out of 7 pairs of socks. Or maybe they go thru 7 in 3 days."
My mind was not, in case you couldn't deduce, set on things above.
The lady asked if the shirts ever went on sale and the guy says, "Never." What? Buy something not on sale? Are you kidding? But she did. " That'll be $503.44, please." he says to her. I'm thinking 500 bucks is a bit excessive to spend on something that doesn't do the dishes or take out the trash or take pictures of someone taking out the trash.
When she was gone, I was next. The guy says, "How are you today?" Wrong question.
I should just say "fine." My daughter works retail and says she hears all kinds of negative stuff when she just asks, "How are you?"
But I add something like, "I'd be better if those ladies had stood in line. I was called over here and they just slid in ahead of me."
"Oh, really?"
No, I'm making it up just to be nasty, of COURSE REALLY! (That's what I was thinking, but what I said was, "Maybe they didn't realize there was a line.")
Poor kid. He's just a cashier, not a cop. Sometimes I think if I wasn't a mom I would be a cop. Come to think of it, every mom I know is a cop. I've got so much practice maybe I should think about changing careers and actually get paid to be a cop. I'm all about the rules. Not keeping them, just enforcing them. You know, like a good Pharisee. People could call me POP--Pharisee on Patrol. Course, answering to 'Pop" would be mighty, um... weird.
"That'll be eighty-seven dollars and thirty-five cents, please." Pop's mind jolted back into Mom mode. I'm thinking 87 bucks is a bit excessive to spend on something that doesn't do the dishes or take out the trash or take pictures of someone taking out the trash.
But besides my sinful response at that one store, I was a happy Christmas shopper. I was thrilled that cashiers are saying "Merry Christmas" this year. And I am happy that songs which mention Christ the newborn King still dominate the airwaves in malls and on honker-bonker highways.
How about you? How's your perspective today?
Let me explain. It was all in the perspective I chose this year.
In traffic I did not get impatient, even though at most intersections it took three "rotations" of the light before I got through. I just pretended we were all part of a big club and this is what we do. We form single file parallel lines and stay close together. We have multiple destinations but a single purpose.
When people honked at each other, I chose to think how cool it would be if we could all honk a Christmas carol during our wait times. My van horn is kind of medium-pitched, like a "G' above middle C. Most truck horns are deep,like a bass note; little sports cars hit the higher notes. I'd love to see a used car dealership do this someday--hire a crew to play a holiday tune on their lot, using car horns. I'd pay money to hear "Silent Night" like that one day. Of course, it would be a misnomer.
When I was wandering around perplexed about where "they" keep such-and-such in this particular store (I'm being vague since sometimes my kids read this blog), I was just thankful I had these kids to buy for. I was thankful for a decent budget, and for kids who really don't ask for much.
The only time I had ill feelings was when I was in this same store and was ushered to Register 6 with just three things in hand, but these two women jumped line (actually "staggered" into it with blinders on is more like it--I don't think they realized there WAS a line, or else there were pretending to be oblivious). Between them they had a stack of clothes a good foot and a half high. When the young, clean-shaven cashier was almost finished taking the last shirt off the hanger, one of the women asks him, "Do you have such and such kind of socks?" He says yes and tells her where they are. What a nice guy. (Do you see my tongue lodged solidly in my cheek?) Lady says "Ill be back in a sec. " Well, I don't know what planet she comes from, but on this one, a sec is not time enough to ring up a pack of gum, let alone get out of a line (that one has jumped/staggered into to start with) and go hunt for socks.
She comes back and the package says "7 Socks, 7 Days." Whoa! No kidding. Boy, nowadays companies, not fourth-grade teachers, teach ratios to consumers who can't figure that out on their own. But then again, maybe her kids get 3 days out of 7 pairs of socks. Or maybe they go thru 7 in 3 days."
My mind was not, in case you couldn't deduce, set on things above.
The lady asked if the shirts ever went on sale and the guy says, "Never." What? Buy something not on sale? Are you kidding? But she did. " That'll be $503.44, please." he says to her. I'm thinking 500 bucks is a bit excessive to spend on something that doesn't do the dishes or take out the trash or take pictures of someone taking out the trash.
When she was gone, I was next. The guy says, "How are you today?" Wrong question.
I should just say "fine." My daughter works retail and says she hears all kinds of negative stuff when she just asks, "How are you?"
But I add something like, "I'd be better if those ladies had stood in line. I was called over here and they just slid in ahead of me."
"Oh, really?"
No, I'm making it up just to be nasty, of COURSE REALLY! (That's what I was thinking, but what I said was, "Maybe they didn't realize there was a line.")
Poor kid. He's just a cashier, not a cop. Sometimes I think if I wasn't a mom I would be a cop. Come to think of it, every mom I know is a cop. I've got so much practice maybe I should think about changing careers and actually get paid to be a cop. I'm all about the rules. Not keeping them, just enforcing them. You know, like a good Pharisee. People could call me POP--Pharisee on Patrol. Course, answering to 'Pop" would be mighty, um... weird.
"That'll be eighty-seven dollars and thirty-five cents, please." Pop's mind jolted back into Mom mode. I'm thinking 87 bucks is a bit excessive to spend on something that doesn't do the dishes or take out the trash or take pictures of someone taking out the trash.
But besides my sinful response at that one store, I was a happy Christmas shopper. I was thrilled that cashiers are saying "Merry Christmas" this year. And I am happy that songs which mention Christ the newborn King still dominate the airwaves in malls and on honker-bonker highways.
How about you? How's your perspective today?
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