Making Hay

I had planned to do some wood working on Saturday, but it was cold and rainy.  I have to set up my tools in the driveway, so rainy days are not ideal.  It was a good day to stay inside, read, and write. 

Our youth group had planned to go skiing last weekend, but there was not much snow on the mountains.  They went to the beach instead.

To get the most done, it helps to cooperate with the weather. 

While weather can be unpredictable, we can have some reasonable expectations:  cooler/cold in the winter, warmer/hot in the summer; warmer in the day and cooler at night.  Precipitation can happen any time of the year in NC.  We learn to work around the weather and do those activities that suit the weather.

Now, my moods can be like weather.  They are somewhat predictable:  more energy early in the day, better creativity when I'm not rushed, deeper thinking when away from distractions.  Unlike the weather, I can control my moods.  Being well rested always helps my mood.  When I need to use my brain-power, I need to avoid being rushed and distracted.  When I need to be out in public I want to be tuned in for interaction with others.

Here's my point:  it helps me to work with my natural mental/emotional rhythms.  When I have some flexible time, I need to work with the weather in my brain.  I need to make hay while the sun is shining.  I can allow the Spirit to use me more effectively when I surrender to his lead and sail with the wind.  Obviously much of anyone's work needs to be done whether or not you're in the mood.  But having work options available for various kinds of mental weather can boost effectiveness. 

Mindless paperwork should not be done during your mental prime.  Deep thinking should not be done in the post-lunch slump. 

Yeah, I know this is nothing new, but it recently occurred to me that our moods are like the weather.  It helps if you work with what you've got.

We Need an Oasis

The Little House on the Prairie books and television series capture everyday life in the 1800s on the American frontier.  Laura Ingalls Wilder recorded a lot of the mundane aspects of life--how food was prepared, how clothes were made, how people travelled, how children played.  Few people thought to record such ordinary aspects of life, because they were so obvious.  Everyone knew what toys kids played with.  Why bother to write it down?

We actually have a snapshot of history, thanks to her careful records.  Otherwise forgotten details were preserved.  And it also made for a great TV show.

Today, change happens much faster; we barely remember life without constant access to communication.  Only 20 years ago my family did not even have a cordless phone.  We did have a computer, but no connection to the "information superhighway," this new network that Vice President Gore kept touting.  News reports claimed that some day everyone's home computers could be connected.  Yeah, right.

Back then, traveling meant being out of communication.  Only through letters, phone calls and visits could anyone communicate.  Ever.  People had one phone number for home, one phone number for work.

Now I look back and wonder how I lived without Google accessible every second.  I wonder how I could be so out of touch--no texting, Facebook, Twitter, cell calls.  But somehow I did it.

Even my millennial kids, now 18 and 20, listen with a sense of vicarious nostalgia when I describe the world at the time of their births.  So much has changed in their lifetimes.  People in my generation--I'm 52--seem to have forgotten what life used to be like.  Do we need another Laura Ingalls Wilder to recall life in the late 20th century?

We are so connected now, I wonder if it may be driving us crazy.  Yes, it's annoying at times, but it may really be changing our mental wiring.  Probably not for the better.  Do we ever really unplug?  A nice, long vacation comes with the promise of an overflowing email in-box upon return.  We can prevent that by checking our email throughout vacation; i.e. we can not be on vacation while on vacation.  Is it really worth it?

I heard recently about a company which deactivates its employees' email accounts while they are on vacation.  All the incoming emails just bounce right back to the sender.  After vacation, the employees come back to a clean work slate.  That almost sounds too good to be true.

We need time to think.  We need time to be inaccessible.  We need uninterrupted chunks of time so that we can step back and see what really matters in life.  Twenty years ago we could achieve this solitude with a day trip to the Blue Ridge Parkway.  Now we never experience it, unless our phone battery dies.  Then we rush back to connect at the earliest conceivable moment.  Somehow that seems pitiful to me.

We can be so connected to the moment that we are disconnected from real life.  Somehow we, society, must create significant oases of quiet and stillness, without having a growing pile of stuff waiting to bury us.

The need is real.  We need to capture this before we forget what it was like.

Crooked Sticks and Straight Lines

Some tools are not perfect.  Anyone who works with computers knows this.  Experience has led me to this conclusion:  Technology is great, except for when it is not.  Printers mysteriously go offline; no one knows why.  Browsers and word processors flow like molasses and sometimes reach the solid state, freezing entirely.  One learns to restart the program, then restart the computer.  Our old wireless router became decrepit late in its life.  It had good days and bad days.  It might function perfectly for several consecutive days, then suddenly need rebooting every 10 minutes.  When I replaced it a few weeks ago, I immediately wondered why I waited so long.  Surfing the ’net is now a seamless journey through cyberspace, with no worries about video buffering or interrupted downloads.

Technology is a fickle servant.  I have often wondered how many hours I have spent waiting for my mouse pointer to stop spinning, or for programs to open, or for websites to display.  In those moments, I produce nothing, become frustrated, and further reduce my production capacity.  I could get so much more done if I were not working with such sluggish tools.  I bought a new computer in April, because my laptop became unbearably slow.  It was over four years old, well past middle age in the computer life-cycle.  Work is much more productive when my tools function efficiently.

This same lesson applies in woodworking.  Sharp saws actually cut through boards rather than burning through them.  Healthy batteries make cordless drilling effortless.  Conversely, breaking drill bits can mar the wood and slow the process.  I can work with imperfect tools when necessary—dull blades, weak batteries and breaking drill bits—but nothing beats breezing through a project with good tools.

I pity the person who shows up for work, wondering if the tools will cooperate that day.  When my daughter was ready to get her driver’s license last year, we drove 30 minutes to the DMV.  The clerk there informed us that her computers were down, and she could not help us; she had no idea when the system in Raleigh would be back on line.  All she could do was apologize to everyone who walked in.  We had to drive another hour to get to another DMV office.

Sometimes tools behave as if they have minds of their own.  Not only computers but cars, appliances and audio equipment may seem to choose if they will function.  We use those tools routinely, and work around whatever problems they cause.  We curse them, call them temperamental and may eventually replace them.

Consider that this is the kind of tool that God has to work with.  He chooses to use his people to bring his kingdom.  But we have good days and bad days.  We sometimes choose not to work.  We become dull and run down.  Unlike our tools, God’s tools actually choose whether or not to cooperate.  Amazingly, God uses us imperfect, temperamental, rebellious tools to share his good news through the ages.  Patiently, with us, he builds his kingdom, day by day, person by person.  Though we may be stubborn, hardheaded and defiant, he loves us and advances his kingdom in us and through us.  He accomplishes his purposes, and somehow uses our mistakes and sins in the process.

God can take a crooked stick and draw a straight line.  He knows that we are crooked sticks, and he loves us anyway.  In fact, he cares much more about us than our production.

So, however God is using you, he recognizes your imperfections.  He knows that sometimes you refuse to cooperate.  Sometimes you are more awake than others.  Some motives are more pure than others.  And he fashions the kingdom of God with all us imperfect, fickle tools.  Sometimes he needs to reboot us.  Sometimes he manages around our slowness.  And we are more than tools to him.  We are his dearly loved people, for whom he died.  We are his bride, being made holy, being perfected.  He loves you not for your work, but for who you are. 

If we can accomplish work with our frustrating tools, God can surely use us for his purposes, the work to which he has called us.  He is bringing his kingdom, using us in the process.  Only God could do that.  He doesn’t even get frustrated.

Seven Reasons We Want Stuff

People want stuff.  They always have.  We always have.  We want stuff, even though we know that relationships are more important.  Admittedly some people have little desire for possessions, but they are the exceptions in American culture.

What drives our desire for stuff?  I’ve done some thinking about this, I’ve come up with seven primary reasons we desire things.

1.  Necessity

There are certain things we need for living, including food, clothing and shelter.  Of these, food is a consumable, so I don’t think of it as a possession.  But clothing and shelter can clearly be possessions; they are things we need, whether or not we own them.    

A second necessity is physical security.  We possess many items to keep us safe from accident or crime:  door locks, railings, firearms, alarm systems.

2.  Comfort and Convenience

Many of our possessions just make life easier.  We like to have them because they save time and effort.  We find comfort in furniture, air conditioning, and those heated seats in cars.  We find convenience with refrigerators, lawnmowers, computers and telephones.  

With some items, we find emotional comfort as well.  It may comfort us to see family Christmas ornaments, or familiar portraits.

3.  Vanity

Of course sometimes we like stuff because it makes us look good.  We wear jewels and drive cars so that others will notice.  People enjoy looking good, and stuff helps. 

We also may want to look good for others.  A wife wears a dress or a necklace because she knows her husband likes it.  We also buy stuff to fit in with a certain crowd, even if we don’t like the stuff.

4.  Greed

This one is fairly obvious.  We like to accumulate stuff, sometimes hoard stuff.  Jesus tells the story about a man who had so much grain that he tore down his storage barns to build bigger ones.  When we have stuff we like, sometimes we just want more.  I think this appeal is partly based in fear—fear that God will not provide for us in the future.  We have to look out for ourselves because we can’t trust God to take care of us. 

Another kind of greed is really mean:  we want stuff just to keep someone else from having it.  Even if we don’t want the thing, we can’t bear for that other person to have it.  This is a sign of damaged relationships.

5.  Excitement

Some possessions give us a thrill:  boats, skis, cars, bicycles, camping gear, electronics.  We want that stuff because of the experience that comes with it. 

We also have the thrill of beauty.  Some possessions are just beautiful and valuable because they bring pleasure through their beauty.

6.  Work

Some possessions aid us in our work; they are the tools of our trade:  wrenches, ovens, saws, mixers, sewing machines, etc.  We desire these items because our productivity and creativity soar when we use them.

7.  Responsibility

Some stuff needs to be cared for and kept, such as family heirlooms.  We want these possessions out of a sense of duty, believing that someone should care for them. 

Then there is also the responsibility of saving for the future.  Some possessions are also stores of wealth:  houses, collectible items, investment art.

When we understand our motives for wanting stuff, it helps us evaluate those desires.  More important than any possession is our soul.  Maybe we should ask ourselves how our possessions affect our souls.  Some possessions build us up.  Some tear us down.  Some are just neutral.

Think about why you want stuff.  You may surprise yourself.

In summary:  Why we want stuff:

1.      Necessity

            a.   Food, clothing, shelter

            b.   Physical protection

2.      Comfort and convenience

a.       Physical

b.      Emotional

3.      Vanity

a.       Please ourselves

b.      Please others

4.      Greed

a.       Accumulation

b.      Deny others

5.      Excitement

a.       Thrill of adventure

b.      Thrill of beauty

6.      Work – We need tools to do our work.

7.      Responsibility

a.       Heirloom items

b.      Investment items

Everything You've Worked For

I recently heard a commercial for a financial advisor firm, urging listeners to be careful with their retirement savings.  (Of course they are the ones who can really take care of your money.)  The announcer described the tragedy of being careless with "everything you've worked for."

Obviously he is talking about financial investments, but the real tragedy would be spending all of one's life working only for money.  If everything I have worked for has a price tag, I am the poorest of men.  I hope that my retirement savings ranks near the bottom of the things I have worked for.

All of the material things in life will disappear.  Only relationships will last forever.  That's what I want to be working for.

No Pain, No Problem

The Little Red Hen understood the real world.  She asked for help as she planted, nurtured, harvested, milled and baked.  No one cared about helping with the work.  Everyone wanted to enjoy the freshly baked bread.  She rightly allowed only those who worked for the bread to  Sadly, she ate alone.  She understood that pleasure and responsibility go hand in hand. 

enjoy it.

These connections are self-evident to those steeped in the Protestant work ethic.  The pleasure of sex brings the responsibility of commitment and potential parenthood.  The pleasure of leisure comes after the responsibility of work.  The pleasure of beachfront property brings the responsibility of preparing for storm damage.  The “pleasure” of poor health choices creates the responsibility of dealing with diabetes, heart disease, lung cancer, or cirrhosis of the liver. 

Unfortunately today’s culture works constantly to sever pleasure from responsibility.  Pregnant and don’t want to be?  There’s a pill for that.  Hung over?   There’s a pill for that.  Sleepy?  Have an energy drink.  Distracted?  Choose your ADHD med.  Negative consequences must be avoided at all costs, even at the cost of human life.  The consequences of recreational sex, laziness, poor judgment, poor health choices, and economic risk must not be felt.  (This is actually part of the contemporary doctrine that all suffering must be avoided.)  Some corporations are too big to fail, so the taxpayers bail them out.  When hurricanes destroy their homes, uninsured property owners receive interest free, government guaranteed loans.  Many able-bodied adults choose not to work but collect electronic benefits transfer (EBT) payments every month.  Millions of babies die each year when abortion is used as birth control.  Though intended to help people, these pills and policies harm the individual and society.  They interfere with natural cause and effect.

Yet well-parented children know that the pleasure of a snow day means school work must be done at another time.  They know that chores come before play.  They know that living in a family obligates children and adults to help run the household.  This connection of pleasure with responsibility reflects the “real world.”  However, through science, marketing, and government programs, our society works to create the life of pleasure with no responsibility.  The real world is too cruel, so we must save people from it.  This sounds as appealing as having ice cream for breakfast and a staff of servants to do all the chores.  It might seem good in the short run, but ultimately someone must pay for it.  The servants must be paid, and poor health comes from a sugar-rich diet.

Therapists deal with those deprived of the proper pleasure/responsibility balance in childhood.  Those with no pleasure have been overworked; they have been robbed of their childhoods.  Meanwhile, those with no responsibility have never had to work; they never mature beyond childhood.

Our society moves steadily toward the latter.  Fewer people take responsibility because fewer people have to.  Looking at today’s pro sports, government, and prime time television, one must ask the same question:  Where are all the grownups?  There must be a pill for that.