Entitlement

Happy Post-Thanksgiving!

Here's a math problem for you. All I did was make one batch of mashed potatoes, yet when all was said and done, I had four giant bowls soaking in sudsy water to get all of the potato-ness off of them, approximately 9,000 utensils scattered in the sink and took out two bags of trash in the last six hours.

How does that happen? If Rachael Ray or Martha Stewart ever need a replacement... don't call me.

But the potatoes... oh. my. word. They almost didn't make it to my aunt's for Thanksgiving because I may or may not have kept sneaking tastes. They are full of bad things. Heavy cream. Buttttah. Cream cheese. Don't look at me like that. It was a holiday. Go with it.

Annnnnyway, Thanksgiving. I feel like I won't be a good American unless I list all the things I'm thankful for, just like everyone else is doing. But that seems so... so... routine. Don't get me wrong, I am thankful for a lot of things. I understand the value of a grateful heart. But I'm wondering if I really know what thankfulness means.

I came across this Thanksgiving poem last week that just rubbed me the wrong way. It starts out like this:

Even though I clutch my blanket and growl when the alarm rings, thank
You, Lord, that I can hear. There are many who are deaf.

Even though I keep my eyes closed against the morning light as long
as possible, thank You, Lord, that I can see. Many are blind.

I think you can imagine why I found that a little offensive (!). The poem goes on to give thanks for things like family (because there are many who are lonely), food (because there are many who are hungry) and work (because there are many who don't have a job).

It's okay to be thankful for those things. But the motivation behind the gratitude in the poem is all wrong. Being thankful that you have something that someone else doesn't isn't really gratitude, but superiority.

The whole poem is really just one complaint after another. Paraphrased, it is basically saying something like:

"Poor me, I have to listen to my alarm shrill at me day after day, and I'm forced to leave my warm, cozy bed and work for The Man just so I can come home to crying children and a demanding spouse and burned toast in a modest house... but at least I'm not like those people! Even though I'm not really getting what I want, that's okay, because it could be so much worse."

Are we really that backwards that instead of truly being humbly thankful for what we do have, we're begrudgingly noting that at least someone else is worse off than we are? What we're really doing then is assuring ourselves that we're still awesome, that we've still got one up on everyone else. This isn't really a poem of Thanksgiving, but one of entitlement. It assumes that life should be free of restrictions and authority and cold and ruined food and illness and trials. That we are special and awesome enough to deserve a perfect life and have right to pitch a fit when it doesn't go our way.

I know this because I get behind the wheel of a car every day. I don't know what it is about driving that makes me act like a three year old, but it does. I mean, people are driving in my lane. What is up with that? I did not tell them they could be there. Why are they driving so slow? Don't they know that the speed limit thingy is just a suggestion? I have someplace to be and they are slowing me down and don't they know I will be late for work if they don't MOVE. IT.?! I act like I'm the only person on the highway who has schedule to keep. All of a sudden, everything becomes about me and my need to get somewhere and everyone who stands in my way is an enemy.

And the truth is that I live my life this way too. I don't know how to be thankful because I assume I'm entitled to live the way I want. It's hard to say "thank you" when you're distracted by the fact that your internet connection isn't fast enough or that the kitchen isn't big enough or the weekend isn't full enough. Then trying to fake an attitude of gratitude (cue cheesy sound effect) by mumbling, "Well, at least I'm not like that guy!" just doesn't cut it.

I think true thankfulness starts with humility, with recognizing who you really are (a sinner, not awesome and yucky), what you really deserve (wrath, hell and death) and what you got instead (grace, mercy and life). Only by breaking the illusion of entitlement will I really be thankful.

Which means I've got a long, loooooooong way to go.

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience — among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ — by grace you have been saved — and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. - Ephesians 2:1-10

Battling the stupid blues

Random fact of the day: Uhhhh... I got nothing random today. Except for silly things like how I know when it's time to trim my nails, how often I check my mailbox at home and what I'm thinking about for dinner. Basically, I am a Grown-Up now and it is dull sometimes.

Hearing aids: I struggle with feeling stupid (at worst) and inadequate (at best). If I could be perfectly honest with you, and I mean this in the most not-vain way possible - I think I'm a lot smarter than people give me credit for. But because I often don't take opportunities to speak up or people don't give me such opportunities, whichever, I feel like I come across as something less than I am.

When I'm constantly having to ask for repetition, I feel like I look ignorant. If I answer a question that I heard but not one that someone asked, I look like I don't know what I'm talking about. If I stay silent during lunchtime chatter or serious discussions, I appear dim. At least that's what it feels like. But people, I'm so freaking aware. If only you knew how much I use my eyes to make up for my ears. I wonder how many discussions of "Where did ____ go?" or "Did we pass that store?" could have been resolved if someone had asked me - while you were talking to each other, I was taking in all the sights and noting all the details.

It's important to me to know. To be aware of what's going on around me, so I am always looking around, always trying to figure things out. And then, because I spend so much time in my own little world, I think things through a lot. Sometimes this is dangerous and I end up over-thinking things and make mountains out of molehills. Sometimes this is good, as I end up exploring every possible angle to something. My point is just that I know things. I'm not dumb. Just because I don't speak up doesn't mean I have nothing to offer. I have so much to share if I just knew the question, knew what someone needed. I may be a little blonde, but I'm not that blonde. ;)

In other news: Census? Check. Taxes? In progress. Adulthood? Boring.

(Before I jump into this very random thought, please note that I am reflecting on our sin nature, not reflecting on who we are when we're new in Christ. I'm reflecting on the type of people we are when no one is looking)

Do you ever get mad on someone's behalf? Like if someone wrongs your friend, you get mad at whoever did the wrong-ing? Or maybe you get mad at God when your loved one suffers? Are you madder than if it was you in the same position? Do you get more upset when something bad happens to someone you love than if that same something bad had happened to you?

Sometimes I do. I wonder why we get upset on someone's behalf. I suppose the sweet and romantic answer is that we love the person in question so much that we hate to see them suffer. But I have a hard time believing that. I mean, I'm sure it's true sometimes but let's be honest here. We're sinners, you and I. It's in our nature to fend only for ourselves and even those of us who are in Christ battle this nature constantly. There's nothing in our sin nature that should cause us to care more if someone we love is hurt than if we ourselves are. Our nature dictates that we should be angrier when we are wounded than if someone else is.

No, I think when we get upset at someone's misfortune, we're really upset that life is suddenly not about us. We have to consider someone else other than our selves and that is contrary to our nature. So we try to "fix" it quickly - by throwing out platitudes and well meanings and warm wishes and therapists and hot showers and retail therapy and drugs and doctors. We want to fix it because the sooner their pain is over, the sooner we can get back to more important matters, namely ourselves. (That's not to say that there's absolutely no part of us that cares about other people. We are made in God's image, after all, and so even when we don't know Jesus, I think that there is something in each of us that does recognize that our self is so little and Someone else is so big and better. But at our sinful cores, we really only want ourselves.)

But really, all we can do is recognize our hurting friends/family are broken just like us and pray for the grace to not enter their pain or frustration without the name of Jesus on our lips and in our prayers.