No Gifts

The Friday after Thanksgiving my sister called us. Mostly she wanted to check on my wife, who has had health issues for the last two months. In addition, though, she offered a suggestion for Christmas. "We all have more than we need," she said. "Let's not exchange gifts this year. In view of the economy and the troubles people are facing, let's give what we would have spent to local food banks."

That's a great suggestion. Think of the impact that would take place if several hundred or several thousand people did that. American retailers would hate it, of course. As we were reminded after Black Friday, we aren't doing our patriotic duty and spending enough money in preparation for the holidays. But curtailing lavish gift purchasing and boosting beneficial giving could feed the very sacrificial attitude that so desperately needs to replace runaway consumerism.

Beyond that, it would foster a change in habit and priority. Too much discipleship is discipleship in word and concept only. The biblical concept of metanoia (conversion) means more than a change in what we think or say. It means a change in what we do and, as a result, a change in who we are.

My sister is a smart and faithful lady. May her tribe increase. I'll see you around the next bend in the river.

"Precariousness"

Well, again I've been out of the saddle for a while. My wife had another surprise on her road to restored health, which she has successfully addressed. (I won't go into detail here. If you're interested, contact me at poseg8@sbcglobal.net.)

This has been quite a journey for her over the last two months. It's a journey she's handled faithfully and well. As I've said, she and I have been reminded of a truth which we too often try to ignore in comfortable cultures. The truth is this: life is precarious. There is an unpredictability to life that all of our efforts at control cannot factor away. In Western cultures, among those of means and privilege, we like to convince ourselves that we can, in fact, manage or overcome unpredictability. If we just get enough insurance, take enough vitamins, lose enough weight, secure enough protection, amass enough money, put enough safety devices on our children, learn enough science, etc. etc., then nothing in life will surprise us. We give light-hearted lip service to one another, chuckling and saying, "Well, you never know...", but we actually feel a subtle entitlement to buffered safety. We even build our theologies around this, assuming that God's primary job is to protect us from all ills.

I'm not saying we should abandon those elements of life over which we've had control. Over the last two months I've prayed for, longed for, and waited for every shred of medical knowledge and procedures that are under human control. However, from a faith standpoint, I wonder. I wonder about those of us who live lives of material comfort. Could our illusion of control be the very thing that keeps our spiritual hunger high, but keeps our actual embracing of the truth which is God very low? Other cultures that have a head-on awareness of the "precariousness" of life may have less difficulty banking it all on God, believing God to be the available and active constant in a world full of unpredictable variables.

What do you think? I'll see you around the next bend in the river, hopefully.