All I have is what I need -some thoughts against Independence

“All I have is what I need…”  --Audrey Assad

I’ve been doing a bit of driving this summer; not to Waxahachie or beautiful downtown Wichita Falls or anything touristy like that –but to HEB, the mall, and appointments, and even once to Miller Outdoor Theater. And as I drive around Houston the CD I have been listening to the most in the car is a Christian pop CD called “Heart” by Audrey Assad.  I think it is quite possibly one of the great pop CDs of all time.  The melodies and rhythms are wonderfully catchy and sometimes quite thrilling, but the songs –the lyrics and the way she sings them—are often so strangely beautiful that they seem transcendent.  Though there doesn’t seem to be a narrative “concept” to the album, the songs do feel organically united and create a beautiful cohesive whole.  It is truly an album to enjoy again and again.

                But there is one phrase that shows up in at least a couple of the songs that has troubled me (in a good way –of course): “all we have is what we need…”  And as I read Genesis, I keep thinking about this phrase.  How applicable it is to the story of God’s love and grace and the story of His people.  And to the story of my own life. As a kind of disclaimer, let me say this: in the context of her song, I think it is quite possible Mrs. Assad is saying something more straightforward than what I am about to describe.  I imagine she means something along the line of –God has given me everything I need, why should I long for more.  But what I hear is: all we really have, any of us, is our need.  And perhaps that is exactly how God intends it.

                Going back to my recent reading of Genesis, look at Abram –called by God to become a blessing to the world—he is lead to a foreign land, separated from his family and home, called to dwell in a place where he lacks the security of all he has known and where he will find himself constantly in need of shelter and food and even a place to lay his head. And then there is Jacob, who seems so clever and wily, yet who –in the end—must submit himself first to the brother he has abused and tricked, then because of a famine to the will of some Egyptian power-broker (who it turns out is the beloved son that he lost so many years before).  Again and again we see in the stories of the people of God that all we really have is our need.  We are called time and again to place not our burnt offerings and incense upon the altar –but to offer God our brokenness and our contrition. We are called time and again to recognize our complete dependence on God; our need for His grace.  That is our greatest gift. And –on some level it is the only thing we have that is truly ours: Our need.  And so we are called to share it with the world. We are called to place our need upon the altar, to offer it to all and to become a blessing to the world.    

It is interesting to me that I am writing this on the 4^th of July: Independence Day. We –as a culture—do not value “need.” We have a little bit of disdain for it. Because need makes you dependent. And that is anathema in the land of independence!  A land where we can define and redefine ourselves any way we like, because we don’t need anybody or anyone’s approval.  We are autonomous and independent and that’s how we like it. And yet is that what God intended? Is that what Christ meant when He said:

Anyone who finds his life will lose it and anyone who loses his life for my sake will find it
–Matthew 10:39

What does it mean to take up your cross and follow Christ? What does it look like? Does it mean Independence? Does it look like self-sufficiency? Or is that the call of God asking us to come and share our brokenness with the world?   Perhaps all I really have is what I need –and that need is a door to salvation –not just for me—but for you as well. We tend to think of a need as a lack or an emptiness, but what if –like the song says—it isn’t a lacking, it is the thing we actually have been given to share with the world. All I have is what I need  --here, I hold it out to you. It is all I have –and I offer it to you.

Thank you, Audrey Assad. Happy “dependence” day to all…

It runs in our blood --Jacob & the family trade

“…Joseph recognized his brothers…” –Genesis 42:8

I am still reading Genesis (for a librarian –I am a very slow reader, though there is also the excuse of new kittens in the house).  And, of course, this is the eternal word of God, so what’s the hurry.

Having just reached the story of Joseph, it intrigues me that the “trickster” theme continues in this part of the Jacob narrative.  It is as if the family business were tricking people and we see that “trade” played out again and again in these stories here at the end of Genesis.  First Jacob takes advantage of his brother’s hunger and careless way with words to steal Esau’s birthright, then Rebekah and Jacob trick Isaac into blessing him (masquerading as Esau), then Laban (Jacob’s uncle) tricks Jacob into marrying the wrong daughter (Leah) before giving him (also) the one he was promised (Rachel). Then Jacob tricks Laban and Esau (again), and now we see Jacob’s children employing the family trade in their treatment of each other.  The brothers plot against Joseph –who is carried off to be sold in Egypt-- and then trick their father into thinking he’s been killed by a wild animal. And now, this morning I am reading that Joseph (the sweet and wonderful and miraculously wise and chaste Joseph) is playing tricks on his brothers.  It is as if the family cannot help themselves. It is in their DNA.  Trickering runs in their blood.

When the brothers come to Egypt seeking food (because of the great famine), Joseph recognizes them, but they don’t recognize him and thus begins the great trick that will end with the saving of Israel as Jacob/Israel and all his people move to Egypt to live with Joseph. And, of course, we know how that story ends… Charlton Heston comes to the rescue!

                But, what interests me here is this: what lesson is God teaching us through these stories?  What lesson are we to derive from the story of this trickster family who play a key part in God’s plan?  God seems to dearly love this family that lies and steals and manipulates each other.  And through them He founds His people?  What does that tell us about our relationship to God? And what does it tell us about His relationship to us?  I think this is something I will need to wrestle with for a long time.

More than many sparrows: a lesson in humor and humility

“…do not be afraid.  You are worth more than many sparrows.”
--Matthew 10:31

How reassuring it is to know that we are worth more than many sparrows. Sparrows, two of which could be purchased for a small coin (a penny); and yet Jesus assures us that we are worth more than many of these and so we don’t need to be afraid.  Is that an example of divine humor? Heavenly irony?  Or was that meant to be seriously reassuring to the apostles.  One has to wonder.

                What I hear in these words is, first: a comic reassurance, and second: a lesson in humility.  Hearing this, can’t you imagine Jesus nodding His head reassuringly, the turn of a sly grin curling the edges of His lips?  “You are worth more than many sparrows…” Yes, we are important to God, and yes God knows every hair on your head; and so, by golly, when things get rough, whether my world seems to be falling apart, or all my magnificent plans and efforts are crashing down around me, I just need to remember: Don’t be afraid. You’re worth more than many sparrows!!  

Of course, that begs the question: Oh, yeah!  How many? At 2 for a penny, we’d have to get up to fifty-one sparrows just to be worth more than a quarter! A hundred-and-one, to be worth more than a half dollar.  You can’t even ride Metro for a half dollar any more.  How is that for a lesson in humility?

Of course, I’m being silly here.  I think it would take at least 250 sparrows just to get from my house to I-10.  And if I needed a transfer –say to get downtown-- that would be another 200 sparrows.  Minimum. And that doesn’t cover return fare.  Plus, at this point, (450 sparrows; questions of aerodynamics arise…) with a harness and some twine you might be able to… never mind. 

Thinking about this passage, and the idea that Jesus might be employing a little humor, I began to realize another lesson we learn from Dante’s Divine Comedy.  The utter absence of humor among the damned.  It isn’t that the souls in Dante’s Hell have no time for humor, but that they make no place for it. The souls in The Inferno take their sin very seriously.  Dante never talks about this; he simply shows it.  As we read the poem and meet the different souls in Hell, what we meet are souls who have lost the ability to laugh at anything.  This is a situation I find myself in on occasion. I am dead set on some plan, some activity or some respite that I am claiming for my own. It is something I deserve. Or it is –for instance, becoming a deacon—my right. My vocation. God’s will for me! I want it and I deserve it.  When I am in that mindset, there is little chance of me laughing at anything that goes even slightly amiss. You might not hear me yell or see me punch the wall, but if my plans go awry, inside I will begin to stew and seethe. And I will be unable to laugh –not just at the situation, but at anything. I will refuse to.  And you know, having been in that situation before, I can tell you –it is Hell.  I grow hard and bitter inside and lose my way.  Because –and I think this is key—I am not important enough!  I want to be not just more important than… anything… at times like that, I want to be MOST important.  And that is exactly what we see lived out in Dante’s Hell.  The souls are all stuck wanting to be MOST important. And none of them can let go of their sin (their ego) long enough to laugh at themselves and their situation.  Sadly I have found myself living that Hell, too many times.  In fact, just now.  I am trying to write this. I want to write this. But, I am the only one awake and our two new kittens are begging for food. So, I stop and give them food. As I am setting it out for them our older cat comes looking for food, too. So, I put food out for him. Thinking, I will get right back to my writing.  But then I notice the kittens have knocked a tote bag on the flood and so I stoop to pick it up. Still thinking I am going right back to writing. But… as I pick it up I discover something is on the bag. One of these critters has peed on the bag and now cat pee is spilling everywhere.  And when I try to pour it into the trash the trash is overflowing and the pee spills down the side of the kitchen trash bin and now it is spread across the floor and over the side of the bin and maybe on the refrigerator and the tile floor to the washing machine and… and instead of getting bck to writing I am mopping the floor with paper towels and Windex.  And when my wonderful kind and always sweet daughter asks me what happened, instead of laughing at it all, I snap and murmur something bitter about cats and pee and tote bags and trash cans and laundry and...  So, yes! For me, this isn’t always easy.  Even when I am meditating on the Heavenly qualities of humility and humor, I can so quickly stumble and slip in the cat pee of my pridefulness, my need to feel MOST IMPORTANT.  And I think that is a very real kind of Hell.   

Clearly, this is a lesson Jesus is still trying to teach me: learn to laugh at yourself. A little humor and humility will go a long way in bringing about the Kingdom of God.  P.S. And –when you do the laundry, make sure to balance your load. Uh, oh. Time to check on that loud knocking coming from the washroom.