What Really Matters

It's hard to see the forest for the trees, the light for the darkness, or the hope for the pessimism.

Things get muddled. Things get messy. It's just life. And sometimes, life sucks.

Yeah, I know "pastors" shouldn't say that, but "pastors" are people. And we say "sucks" just like Paul said "garbage" in Philippians 3:8 (hint, the word he used was closer to the other "s" word than we might be comfortable with than it was trash), because life is messy, and we get hurt, too.

And just like that- I've lost my sight of what I needed to talk about.

See how easy it is? We let our minds run rampant and we see all the junk we need to look past, and only see that. We see our problems, our enemies, our junk- and we can't see what we need to to live.

We (read: I) spend a good portion of my life looking at what I don't have or what I wish I had. I'm not just talking about that Black Camaro I'd love, I'm talking jobs I wish I had, money I wish I had, time I wish I had, friends who I wish were closer geographically, friends I wish were closer generally. It makes one miserable and lends often to the "Life sucks" bumper sticker theology i struggle with of late.

And it's stupid because it's not what really matters.

So, what does matter? What makes this life joyous, fulfilling- life giving? I'm no Curly from City Slickers, so I can't give you the "Just One Thing" speech as I squint into the sun under my dirty cowboy hat with a cigarette perched perilously from my lips. Mostly because I think there is more than just ONE thing- but also because cigarette smoke makes me choke.

I do agree that it's what you have to figure out for yourself. For me, I could give the church answer that for me it's Jesus- but that would be slightly dishonest. I love Jesus, and He does matter the most to me, but in my devotion to Him I've come to see the other things that matter- as a part of my relationship to Him.

My wife matters because I love spending time with her. She is my balance when I tilt too far, my voice of hope when my mind gets too dreary. She loves me, and is truly a helpmate for me. She hurts when I hurt, laughs when I laugh and celebrates when I see victory. She reminds me of how Christ loves and forgives when we don't deserve. She is gracious and compassionate, and it rubs off on me.

My kids matter in ways that are hard to express. Leslie and Kenna bring such joy to my life, and I long for good, quality time with them (and their mother). Not just time spent with them, but time spent loving on them, cheering them on in gymnastics or the little art project they decided to do. Time spent listening to their giggles, and their surprisingly sophisticated humor. Time spent watching Phineas and Ferb. They give me but a glimpse of what God must feel when He looks at us- Hope and joy, mixed when anticipation of what will come.

The rest of my family matters to me- especially my mother and mother-in-law. They are two ladies who show so much strength and resilience, they inspire me. Their insight and wisdom often guides me, even when they don't know it.

Sunsets matter, because they are beauty before the dark. Reminders of glory we've not yet known fully.

Good music matters. Doesn't matter if it is Crowder or Kansas, a hymn or a rock anthem. If it speaks to you, it makes a difference.

Good stories matter because they often hide a bit of deeper Truth. Movies or books, TV Shows or Comic Books take us another place, yet often point us to something God is saying. At least, they do for me.

Moments of peace matter more than I can relate. They are too fleeting, and too few, but those seconds of respite are glimpses of hope.

When life sucks, these are the things I must remind myself to think of. And when I think of them, I must also remember that they are all gifts of God. God is the Father of pleasure, and I fine pleasure in the things that matter. As James 1:17 says:

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

So ultimately all things things matter. Not in some divided loyalty kind of way, but in a "these things matter because God placed them in my life." When I give my heart to Him, I am able to enjoy these things all the more.

And the forests of fears, the darkness of doubt, and the plumes of pessimism disappear in light of Him who matters most.

Hopeless Ramblings

Do you have the time
To listen to me whine
About nothing and everything
All at once
I am one of those
Melodramatic fools
Neurotic to the bone
No doubt about it
-"Basket Case" by Green Day

Hope deferred makes the heart sick,
but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.
--Proverbs 13:12

I am not Job.

I was not a man worthy of praise for my uprightness. I certainly wouldn't draw the attention of Satan for my ability to avoid sin. I've not lost everything and everyone I love in a flash. I'm not covered in sores. My wife is not telling me to curse God and die- actually, she is a glimmer of hope in my life.

But those glimmers of hope are few and far between lately. I don't face Job-like catastrophes just yet. My job is on the line, my kids got sick and the medicine is ridiculously expensive, my computer crashed and we lost all important documents and pictures of the last two years, and the tendinitis in my elbow is getting pretty painful.

These things seem small to you, no doubt. But they don't to me. They are piling up, and despite my hopes and prayers- there is no light at the end of the tunnel.

I guess I should also point out that in the midst of all this, I've been looking for God. I've been asking Him for help, for direction, for light- but all that happens is one more thing to weigh me down.

I don't want you to quote me scripture, or give me some platitude about how "things will turn out." I don't know that I can believe that. Things have always turned out before- but that is no guarantee now. Things didn't turn out for John the Baptist when he was arrested and put before Herod. Why do we assume that "things will turn out" when many of the people of the Bible ended up on the total opposite of "OK?"

So, what if I lose my job and there isn't another one to fill its place? What if, on the limited budget that creates, we can't pay bills, or the car breaks down or some major illness hits? What if the way out I've been praying for never comes?

How can I have faith when it seems God is silent?

I remember once in college, shortly after my Dad passed away, I was at a small group leaders meeting with twenty or so other college students. Something was said and I responded to it. One of the other leaders, Michael- who I had always seen as a great example of faith and conviction and desire for God- looked at me and said, "You have such faith."

What happened?

I served in churches where "Christians" ate each other alive at the drop of the hat. I've seen fervent prayer for healing or rescue go seemingly unanswered. I've watched as truly faithful people struggle while others seem to have it easy with seemingly little dependence on faith. I've seen hollow believers ascend to leadership because of who they knew, while those whose hearts are true wallow in the depths of anonymity.

Through all of that, I've had faith. It has been tested, it has been tried, it has ebbed and flowed- as it is even now.

And I recognize that faith is not a constant- sometimes we have it and sometimes we don't. Right now, my faith is low. Perhaps next week it will rise, perhaps after lunch, perhaps not for a long while. My faith is low, because my hope it exhausted.

Just last week, I came across a quote from Hurley on the show Lost:

Look, I don't know about you, but things have really sucked for me lately, and I could really use a victory. So let's get one, dude! Let's get this car started. Let's look death in the face and say: 'Whatever, man!'"

I'm between the first and second sentences there right now. I need a victory. I need God to show up. I need my faith and what little hope I have to be validated.

See, it would be easy for me to take what I'm feeling and say, "Forget you, God- you've left me and don't seem to care. Your expectations and rules are too much for me, so I'm gone." Believe me, this is tempting.

But I can't.

And I can't really explain why I can't. Perhaps it's in the fact that I know God is real. And if I know and believe that God is real, then I must recognize what He said and has done in the past for me and all people is real.

Perhaps it's the fact that I don't know how to not trust in God, that's all I've ever known.

Or maybe, it's the fact that if I let go of the hope I have in God, then I really have nothing left to hope in.

And if that's the case, then the hope I now have is that I am right where God wants me: lowly and contrite, broken and malleable. Available to Him. Useful to Him.

Wholly His.

And it is there that I will get to the second sentence in Hurley's quote- that I will look death, or failure, or unemployment, or stagnation in the face and say "Whatever, man!"

And He will be the only victory I want or need.