Life that's truly life.

Pre-Script--If you’re not a Jesus-lover, I’m not sure that you’ll agree or that this will make much sense. : )

Interesting how things flow together. For one thing, I had spent money on gifts and things at the market just that day and was processing through the consumer’s guilt that always plagues me post-purchase. Where does this come from? What holds me tightly? Why do I fear being irresponsible and hopeless? And why do I not have a better theology around money—one that actually is lived out? In some ways, I do.

My being here at this stage of the game is a lot of a learning process. One of fresh failures and little bumps and bruises, of ease and freedom and there’s just so much to learn. It’s the rubber-meets-the-road part of life in early adulthood where you feel like you should maybe be further along, but for the most part, you’re really pretty content to be where you are. There are a lot of ups and downs, which is pretty normal for me—the energy waxing and waning, the stability or balance slightly in question, but just tripping, not crashing, still running or survival-shuffling along.

So the sermon spoke to the rich of the world, and really, to everyone, to the consideration of having a right view of yourself and your stuff. The charge is to not get too caught up in the messy, petty, or all-consuming things that make you start to think that this is all there is and you’re missing out. We really might be missing out on “life that is really life” when we start to mix productivity, compromise, efficiency, appearance, reputation, popularity, acclaim, high standard of living with kingdom values. There’s something to seeing that we have already been given everything we need and more. Are we apt to recognize what it is that we do that pleases God and to then really start the enjoying part now, since now is part of forever? Are we generous in the sense of inviting others into that? Or are we always concerned with the next thing, the past things, the preoccupations of the present?

I’m reminded of The Great Divorce and the kinds of false realities we set up for ourselves when we really are in the shadow lands, shadows ourselves, starting to find the real life and all too content to play with those mud pies, clinging so tightly to people and things that we really think we are loving or righteous. And/or we wait it out and think that toil and discontentment are our lot because of the curse and because achievement is more moral than materialism, or perhaps it justifies our materialism. (Materialism, not in the sense of being rich, simply a preoccupation with what we have or don’t have that isn’t eternal, be it a friend count, particular clothes, a successful career, travel, titles, cars, free time, latest technology, particular gifts…) And eventually we find we were just aiming to be old people walking the beach, looking for shells, and that’s it (Don’t Waste Your Life).  That’s why the author of Ecclesiastes, in the midst of the doomsday-sounding “meaningless life” exposé, reminds us that you should work hard and enjoy.
We aren’t guaranteed anything. Life itself, we know and say is a gift, but don’t always really act like that. Do we have clothes, food, places to go? That’s abundance. The hard work, planning, acquiring knowledge and the food and drink, marriage and family, money and even time itself, doesn’t exist when you die, which you will. And I’ve thought that before about crying, something I don’t do very often/very well (sleeping at a decent hours would be another of those things, but alas…). We don’t get to cry once we die, so we might as well use up the tears now and really experience deeply. Thinking critically, drinking deeply, putting the nose to the grindstone, hand on the plow, living in seasons and being ready no matter the season, learning and growing and being challenged and giving thanks, these are all “now” kinds of things.

And beyond this, the now sets us up for the later, because forever has already begun. Kate and I were talking about how each choice that we make invites something into our lives. Are we filled with the Holy Spirit in the real way, beyond the appearance of spirituality? Or are we opening ourselves to worry or dissatisfaction or bitterness or judgment? What’s the root, where’s our foundation?

Lately, I’m finding a lot of the whys and hows of how I do life, of who I am and where I come from even if sometimes I feel like I have absolutely no idea where I’m going. That’s where trust factors like going to sleep at night come into play. It’s pretty neat to see and think and then challenging to have to go live, but what a gift and a privilege to try out so many things in so many places with so many people!

Take hold of life that is really life. If you don’t know what that means, it’s not pure epicureanism, it’s so much more to know the Life. Mmm, good.