Why doing less grates

If you'll remember, I was initially dismissive of my husband's call to do less. But I think I realized why I felt the idea stank when I first heard it.

First of all, I have typically been rewarded for doing more. It brings me glory and recognition. As I mentioned previously, in high school, I "did more" and I won big time. I was an academic rock star, and I was lonely and miserable and I had heard that Jesus offered living water but there was none for me. At college, I said, "Screw doing more. Where's the living water?" God, in his grace, brought a group of people around me that loved me despite being a basket case, apart from the lauds and laurels the university had for me.

However, in terms of kingdom living, I've been taught since I was a child that there is kingdom work to do:

When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. Then he said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.”
~Jesus' words to his disciples, the good news according to Matthew, chpt 9

I've always understood this to mean, "Hey, stop lazing around and DO stuff! Can't you see there's more work than we could ever possibly finish? Hop to it!" But this week, a passage that the Sunday sermon focused on talked about what God does and where real glory belongs:

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.
~Paul's letter to believers in Ephesus, chpt 3

But that's kind of the point, there is more work than I could ever do, but God is able to do immeasurably more than I could even ask or imagine and it brings him glory to do it.

The idea of doing less grates for me because it takes the focus off of what I can accomplish and requires me to trust that God is going to pull through. Doing less requires me to ask God, "Well, what do you want me to do?" and to listen and obey even if I don't know how that's going to get me/the kingdom/my family/my career all the way from point A to point B. To me, doing less feels like doing half way. More is better. If I'm not exhausted and miserable, I must not be doing enough. But again, that's the point, I can never "do enough"; God is the primary doer and he does more than enough. Doing less acknowledges this.

Do diligently: Lessons from my husband

As butter noted in the previous post the quiet life is not an inactive life. I completely agree, and if you hung around our house, you'd experience a certain hum. For our family "do less" is about the pitch of the hum. It's about being deliberate instead of getting swept into a panicked frenzy or taut exhaustion.

I write about "doing less" because I'm a recovering "do more" person. As in, I've spent the past 14 years since graduating from high school trying to figure out what is doing for doing sake and what is actually worth doing. In high school, I figured that doing more stuff added lines to the resume which made getting into college more likely. So I did that, and I was rewarded handsomely--I got a scholarship to a top-10 university. I was also totally miserable.

One thing I really admire about my husband N is that he is extremely diligent in what he does. A fair amount of this may be his personality and he may be focused to a fault at times, but since that trait is not my strong suit I'm totally wow-ed.

By profession and interest, N is a programmer. This is not like saying so-and-so is a lawyer or such-and-such is a fireman. N has been programming since he was 8. Other than eating and tying my shoes, I don't know what I've been doing since I was 8. And I know no one starts lawyering or fighting fires at 8. When it comes to programming, his basic MO is "make it work." When he can't make it work, he gets really frustrated. Now this might sound very normal, but think about all the worker bees around the world who are just punching the clock. They go to work and all they want to do is to survive to the end of the day doing enough to not get fired.

While promotions and raises are nice, really what N wants is for the thing to work right. This desire is so strong that his personal hobby time is devoted to fixing a video game that is 10 years old that a couple hundred people in the world might still play. He doesn't get paid for this, and in fact, one of the current players cussed him out in a Hitler parody video.

Well, if you're anything like me, N's diligence and focus sound impossible. I'm a real scatter brain. My cousin calls me a "dropper"; N loves this, and I have to admit it is kind of true. I leave things around; I half finish tasks. It's not pretty. "Do less" gives me a fighting chance of working toward diligence. There are two parts to this. On the one hand, when I'm stressed or feeling my plate is over-full, the dropping goes up exponentially and I feel justified about it. On the other hand, when we're at a good hum with a full, but not over-full plate, I'm able to reign in the scatter-brained-ness and see things through.

This year in "doing less" has certainly not been about doing nothing. It's been about saying yes to some things and no to other things so that the things we say yes to actually get accomplished and not left half done. Although, since I'm part of this deal--let's be honest--some things are still dropped half way through.

The good news of faithfulness

We spent the weekend with our local church family hashing out God's call to magnify his glory by introducing people to life in his kingdom. We are 100% on board with the church vision that people in our city have repeated opportunities to experience the life-changing reality of Jesus Christ. We really struggle with understanding how our family is to participate in this.

In our year of "do less", we're hearing from the pulpit "do more". As we grow older and are more comfortable with how God made us, the "success" stories presented to us don't look like our lives. Whether it's true or not, what we seem to be hearing is that who we are isn't valuable. We need to be X. X meaning more extroverted, more exhausted, more what we weren't made to be.

As I step back and look at who N and I are, we're the un-glamour family. Professionally, we're actually reasonably accomplished; N has worked on some high profile video game titles, I've published a couple books. But when I think about our lives in among our neighbors and friends, there's not a lot of flash and bang. We're not going to win community service awards for hours at the soup kitchen. But our neighbors will drop by to borrow an egg or ask for computer advice. People from 5, 10, 15 years ago will call when they need a friend. In a dozen months, we've had about that many out of town visitors.

Doing less goes hand in hand with marginal living and allows us to steward what we have. Because we're not out running around every weekend, N has time to learn how to keep up our yard. This is important first, because it is simply part of being a good neighbor and second, because it helps us connect with our neighbors who happen to care about their yards and are way more knowledgeable than we are. Because there are "margins" in my life, white spaces, when crises arise as they seem to with some regularity, instead of being bowled over I can pray and contribute.

Our pastor reminded us this weekend that becoming a child of God cost us nothing (because Jesus paid it all), but that becoming a disciple costs us everything. I don't disagree. Following Jesus is about recognizing that we are dead, dying to ourselves, so that Christ lives in us. But these words coming from a go-go-go church planter easily sound like we have to burn ourselves out to become disciples. I know the Apostle Paul uses a lot of race and training imagery, but he also exhorts the believers in Thessolonica to make it their ambition to lead a quiet life...so that their daily lives would win the respect of outsiders.

Maybe if I could summarize our struggle it's that we are Appalachian trail through hikers who feel exhorted to sprint marathons. What we have to offer is the faithfulness of putting one foot ahead of the other, mile after mile. No flash, no oos and ahhs. I think this is a deep grace in our lives, and I think there is an element of gospel-living in this that I'm unwilling to give up in order to squeeze ourselves into a check box that makes sense to who knows who? I live with the deep trust that as we are drawn deeper into God's grace, our lives will be more and more aligned with God's view of and work in this world. How could it not be?

YAY Grace; What? Suffering?

Noticed this juxtaposition in yesterday's lectionary reading:

Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.

As I look forward to celebrating Easter, this sounds AWESOME!! But the very next line is:

More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

I get rejoicing in "the hope of the glory of God", but I'm honestly not yet at the point of rejoicing in my sufferings. The place where I might connect to this idea is in the following line:

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.

While I might not rejoice in suffering, I am aware that I am weak and ungodly and that Christ has been and will continue to work in me something I cannot do for myself. And if I can ever get to a place where I can rejoice in sufferings, I think it might start there.

~Passage from Paul's letter to Roman believers, chapter 5

That's a lot of failure

In the lectionary today:

After this there was a feast of the Jews, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.

Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades. In these lay a multitude of invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed. One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?” The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.” Jesus said to him, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.” And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked.
~The good news according to John, chapter 5

Now let's assume the waters stirred daily and we take this guy as this word that he tried to get himself to the pool of water believing that if he was the first one in he would be healed. That's 365 days of failure each year times 38 years or 13870 failed attempts at healing. And even if he was disheartened and gave up and didn't even try 10% of the time, he DID try almost 12500 times and FAILED every time.

All I can think of is persistent desperation. And I wonder if I could handle that level of failure and I wonder if I would believe a guy who said, “Get up, take up your bed, and walk.”

I have no grand conclusions, but I'm totally in awe of this level of persistence and desperation.

Lenten reading

Here is part of the Daily Office from the BCP for today:

For he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source. That is why he is not ashamed to call them brothers, saying,

“I will tell of your name to my brothers;
in the midst of the congregation I will sing your praise.”

And again,

“I will put my trust in him.”

And again,

“Behold, I and the children God has given me.”

Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham. Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.
~A Letter to the Hebrews, chapter 2

Chicken and Ashes

Ash Wednesday Collect
Almighty and everlasting God,
you hate nothing you have made
and forgive the sins of all who are penitent:
Create and make in us new and contrite hearts,
that we, worthily lamenting our sins
and acknowledging our wretchedness,
may obtain of you, the God of all mercy,
perfect remission and forgiveness;
through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns
with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
~1979 Book of Common Prayer

Today begins the season of Lent, a time of fasting and mourning our sins as we look forward to celebrating the work of Jesus on the cross on Easter morning.

I was worried that the last post sounded too final, like I had arrived and figured things out. In his second recorded letter to believers in Corinthians, Paul writes to them about giving and calls it the "grace of giving". I need our annual giving tally, I need to list the recipients of these gifts because I need to be able to see that kind of grace in my life.

My dead heart is a hoarder. I have never worried about having food to eat or a roof over my head, but I do find myself running through what ifs. Having a giant pile of cash stashed in the bank makes me feel better, like I'm the master of my own universe. I do think that stewarding our money well by planning and saving is a good idea. But giving presses me into God reminding me that every good and perfect gift comes from him, reminding me that I am NOT the master of my own universe.

In my life, frugal choices have to be balanced with generosity because otherwise I'm just pretending I've got my world under control. When I see the tally of our giving and I experience the sting of "but I could've done X" with that money, I have the opportunity to remember that God has blessed us with abundance now, that my future "security" is not something I craft out of dollars in the bank, and that I have been invited to participate in God's greater work in the world.

Anyways, all that for 89 cent chicken, huh. Well, the start of Lent seems to be an appropriate time to remember and repent of the many ways that I am wretched and money is certainly one of those ways.