“The worries of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth, and
the desire for other things,” according to Jesus in one of his famous analogies
for the Kingdom of God. In the story, the farmer
goes out and sows the “word” (based on how the word is used elsewhere, I think that means "the message about God. The gospel.") over a field. Sometimes
the word falls on bad soil and the seed dies. Other times, it grows and
produces fruit. But the “seed sown among thorns” which grows and is then choked
by worry, wealth, and idolatry (I think) perfectly describes me and the culture
I belong to. We in the American church succumb to these three thorny dangers and abracadabra!! “Sunday Christians.” Fruitless,
lifeless, complacent, immature.
1.
The worries of this life: It’s not today that
concerns me. It’s tomorrow. That obsession with controlling the uncontrollable is so endemic in our society that it almost seems normal. But it’s not
normal. A psychologist friend once told me, “My favorite diagnosis is anxiety disorder, not otherwise specified.”
We all feel that anxiety. It nibbles at the corner of our brains and threatens
to consume us. I once met a beautiful woman of God who after a lifetime of
trusting God in ministry became in her final years a shell of her former self
who knew only how to express love through worry. If there was nothing to worry about, she was able to manufacture some new anxiety. It taught me that innocuous little life
habits like worry have the power to trump and override every other part of our
personhood in time. It begins to define us until our identity is inseparable
with our anxious thoughts. I imagine Satan is like the Joker from “Dark
Knight”, possessing the toxic power to play on people’s fear and exaggerate it
to a debilitating degree. Yikes! Maybe Jesus meant what he said when he told
people not to worry about tomorrow, since it had “enough worries of its own.”
Now, I’m not saying throw away our calendars… but maybe we could start making our plans
in pencil with a James 4:15-style acknowledgment of God’s sovereignty.
2.
The deceitfulness of wealth… good thing I’m
exempt. After all only the superrich succumb to the allure of cash, right?
Truth is, my money talks to me. Little Ben, James, and George keep jabbering
about collecting “just enough” cash to build a “cushion”, have a reliable car,
a comfortable house outside the “bad neighborhoods.” I imagine that if I can
live simply but comfortably, care for my family, get a couple toys (sail boat,
surfboard, kitchen aid), THEN I’ll… well something great will happen to me.
Suburban zen will then rest gently upon me all my days. Sadly, reliance on the
American dream (even among the poor and middle class) has a swift choking
affect on our ability to rely on God or produce meaningful fruit in His
Kingdom. I’m not against wealth. I just don’t personally have the faith to
handle it. Those little green guys have silver tongues so I’m glad my career path
isn’t a wealth-building one. If God has put you in business, please stay there.
But may I recommend that you prayerfully and critically evaluate what is the
best income level to live at for the life and work God has called you to and
stay there even if your salary increases? I think seeing God at work among some
friends in Africa who make about a buck a day taught me that there’s no financial
“guarantee” as a Christian and that’s okay. I once had a friend who set a
minimum cash savings cushion for herself of $3,000. When she had to dip into
it, it she had a major faith crisis. I’m not sure where she got that number,
but I’m pretty certain that life-long financial security is NOT a biblical
promise (even if you DO “sow a seed” on TBN).
3.
The desire for other things. We desire all kinds
of things other than (or more than) God. They are almost ALL good things…
except when they challenge our loyalty to our creator. I cringe when I hear
things like, “any God who…. ______ ….is not a God I want to follow. Well no
matter WHAT God is or does, I imagine following Him is still a good idea, since
He’s the supreme cosmic power and holds the keys to every person’s destiny.
Thankfully, we’re told that He is good, so we’re not being asked to bow down to
some cosmic trickster or sadist. But we’re pretty darn quick to assume that
behavior X would make him nasty and vindictive. Don’t you think it’s a little
silly for me to presume that after 28 years, I’ve gained the moral high ground
over God? Isn’t it more likely that I have holes in my understanding? I’d
rather assume THAT for starters.
An acquaintance of mine is 35, in Christian ministry, and
desperately wants a family. Recently she started dating a non-Christian,
sleeping with him, and just got pregnant. She jettisoned her PRIOR beliefs
about romantic relationships, and as a result has isolated herself from her
community and ministry. She may or may not jettison her faith altogether. I assume she felt
she had a choice: Jesus who sometimes seems distant or a boyfriend who will
love her and perhaps provide a family. I shudder to think what will happen
if he fails to meet her need for love and belonging…
I’m not trying to promote a certain sexual ethic but
simply want to make the point that emotional need is a shaky foundation for a
relationship because the relationship hinges on that persons ability to meet
your need. I’m also saying we give these significant others a LOT of power to
influence our allegiance to God simply because they’re offering something we
crave. I know. I’ve been and am there. Even in marriage, I continually have to
ask, “do I expect Debra to fulfill need X? Is that a fair thing to ask of her?”
Story 2: another friend for personal
reasons is trying to be celibate. All his single friends are getting married
and he is lonely. Very lonely. He yearns for someone to love and affirm him. So he followed
an invitation recently to receive that love from someone he didn’t really know
or even like. He was offered the chance to feel attractive, wanted, loved and
he took it along with the tremendous shame and remorse that followed.
My primary reaction to these “choking
seeds”? Profound empathy. Everything in me screams, “Go! Get your needs met by
any means necessary. God wants you to be happy, so do what you have to do!”
Problem is, I stink at attaining personal happiness. The harder I try the more
it eludes me. And EVEN if I convinced myself that I’m happy (or happier than I
was), so what? How much will I sacrifice for happiness? For what alternative
will I walk away from the invitation to be loved and adopted by a heavenly
Father, to seek and find my life’s greatest purpose, to firmly hold on to hope
for an eternal sense of belonging?
Another buddy in the corporate world just
emailed me: “On my way to work I had this
thought that really left its mark... It really is impossible to follow God as
he demands and simultaneously have any concern for the measures of this world.
I know it sounds like a "duh" statement but I feel like its easy to
say, hear, and outwardly agree with that statement but to live it is an
entirely different animal.”
I'm really not out to pass judgement on other people’s motives.
As I said yesterday, the more I hear people’s back stories the more empathy and
compassion I have for their behavior, even if that behavior remains inexcusable
or downright harmful. But I write like this to help me internalize the truth I
see in scripture. I desperately want to live a life that counts. I want to be
fruitful in this world but I feel the death-grip of thorns around my throat.
Every day, I’m asked to compromise something I believe in and I’m concerned
that the net effect will be complacency. So I’m struggling against the worries
of this life, the deceitfulness of wealth, and the desire for other things. The
best thing I’ve come up with so far is this: I need to be comfortable with
discomfort. I need to cozy up to the rock in my stomach because courage,
growth, and life are less about conjuring the Zen to be fearless and more about
walking wide-eyed into situations and choices that scare me because I believe
(have faith) that there’s something better on the other side of that fear.
