Virtually all American Christians would acknowledge that greed is a problem. It’s just not our problem. But why is greed so bad? Well, greed is being overly concerned about money as a result of basing our identity in material acquisitions. And since only God’s love of us can give us real significance, building our self-image on possessions is a form of idolatry.
But it recently became clear to me that thrift can be just as problematic. Thrifty people are either trying to maximize their material gain (which is just a smarter version of greed) or else they’re safeguarding their money as a way of gaining security. But just as significance only comes from God’s approval, security only comes from God’s providence. Thus, trusting in our wise use of money is yet another a form of idolatry.
In Matthew 6, Jesus teaches us to neither care about things nor to care about tomorrow. It’s a doctrine which equally stymies those of us who are greedy and those of us who are thrifty.
Thought of the Day 10.28.09
For most of human history, the idea of not eating something merely because of the taste was unimaginable. In contrast, most Americans are so accustomed to eating what we want that the idea of eating something we don’t like is almost unimaginable.
This is why Americans who go on short-terms missions trips must be carefully instructed to eat whatever is offered them so as to avoid offending a native host. Eating all his food is a way of honoring the person who served it, regardless of whether the taste is to your liking. But it’s much more than food.
Because of our prosperity and freedom, Americans buy cars, take jobs, make friends, and even attend churches based largely on what tastes good to us. So, when God has the audacity to put something on the plate of our lives we don’t want, we turn up our noses and complain as though He’s obligated to serve us a life that tastes good rather than one which glorifies Him. Maybe we’d do better to just eat and say, “Thank you, Lord.”
.
We are in His house, after all.
This is why Americans who go on short-terms missions trips must be carefully instructed to eat whatever is offered them so as to avoid offending a native host. Eating all his food is a way of honoring the person who served it, regardless of whether the taste is to your liking. But it’s much more than food.
Because of our prosperity and freedom, Americans buy cars, take jobs, make friends, and even attend churches based largely on what tastes good to us. So, when God has the audacity to put something on the plate of our lives we don’t want, we turn up our noses and complain as though He’s obligated to serve us a life that tastes good rather than one which glorifies Him. Maybe we’d do better to just eat and say, “Thank you, Lord.”
.
We are in His house, after all.
Thought of the Day 10.27.09
My son Ethan loves to help me cook. Naturally, this does very little to reduce the time it takes me to make a meal. He likes to do the measuring, which makes me anxious. He likes to do the pouring, which makes me anxious. And he likes to do all the mixing, which makes me anxious. But he loves to be a part of it, so this is what parenting means.
The one thing he does to distress me most is touch everything. Seriously, everything. Just as infants encounter the world by putting everything in their mouths, apparently three-year-olds think that if they haven’t fondled it, it isn’t real. So I’m constantly telling him not to touch things to avoid spills, a historically justified concern.
Well, this weekend, he did spill something just after I had admonished him not to touch it, and I lost my temper, which surely terrified him. But even this terror couldn’t deter him since, moments later, he was right back to touching everything again.
Now, if stopping a very simple behavior is so clearly impossible for my son despite numerous warnings, a desire to please his daddy, and the fear of his father’s anger, why do we think we are capable of overcoming our sins by our own abilities?
The one thing he does to distress me most is touch everything. Seriously, everything. Just as infants encounter the world by putting everything in their mouths, apparently three-year-olds think that if they haven’t fondled it, it isn’t real. So I’m constantly telling him not to touch things to avoid spills, a historically justified concern.
Well, this weekend, he did spill something just after I had admonished him not to touch it, and I lost my temper, which surely terrified him. But even this terror couldn’t deter him since, moments later, he was right back to touching everything again.
Now, if stopping a very simple behavior is so clearly impossible for my son despite numerous warnings, a desire to please his daddy, and the fear of his father’s anger, why do we think we are capable of overcoming our sins by our own abilities?
Thought of the Day 10.26.09
My wife and I have a problem. We’re very quick to accommodate each other. How could that be a problem? Simple.
Let’s say we want different things for dinner. She wants a hamburger, and I want Mexican. As a result, I’ll decide to give in to her and start driving to the burger joint. As we’re pulling in, she’ll say, “What are you doing? I thought you wanted Mexican?!” I’ll say, “Yes, but I decided to go here because it’s what you wanted.” She’ll respond, “But I adjusted and started getting hungry for enchiladas to please you.” At this point, we’re both frustrated because we’ve failed to get what we want on three levels.
Obviously, we aren’t getting the food we want. Second, we’ve failed at giving the other person what they want. As a result, neither of us is getting the “good-spouse” relational credit we had anticipated from making a sacrifice for the other person. It’s pretty funny, if you think about it.
Surely, such problems are the best sort of problems to have, but it does go to show that even when two people are trying to do the right thing, it can create a whole new set of difficulties.
Let’s say we want different things for dinner. She wants a hamburger, and I want Mexican. As a result, I’ll decide to give in to her and start driving to the burger joint. As we’re pulling in, she’ll say, “What are you doing? I thought you wanted Mexican?!” I’ll say, “Yes, but I decided to go here because it’s what you wanted.” She’ll respond, “But I adjusted and started getting hungry for enchiladas to please you.” At this point, we’re both frustrated because we’ve failed to get what we want on three levels.
Obviously, we aren’t getting the food we want. Second, we’ve failed at giving the other person what they want. As a result, neither of us is getting the “good-spouse” relational credit we had anticipated from making a sacrifice for the other person. It’s pretty funny, if you think about it.
Surely, such problems are the best sort of problems to have, but it does go to show that even when two people are trying to do the right thing, it can create a whole new set of difficulties.
Thought of the Day 10.23.09
Recently, I was unfairly accused of something I didn’t do, which infuriated me. So I explained to the involved people what had actually happened in great detail, seeking to dispel the allegations. In the end, it all seems to have worked out just fine, but it was a very educational moment.
See, I was infuriated by the idea that people would think less of me than I really deserved. Yet I have to admit that my outrage wasn’t really motivated by a zeal for truth, but only that portion of the truth that makes me look good. I’m nowhere near as eager to make sure people know all my defects and flaws.
Whereas I’m ferocious at defending my honor, I am at best lukewarm in defending my sinfulness. Is this Christlike? Well, my Savior regularly told people to keep quiet about the good things He did, and He kept silent, Himself, when He was accused of doing evil.
When, oh when, will I ever be as satisfied with God’s opinion of me as He was?
See, I was infuriated by the idea that people would think less of me than I really deserved. Yet I have to admit that my outrage wasn’t really motivated by a zeal for truth, but only that portion of the truth that makes me look good. I’m nowhere near as eager to make sure people know all my defects and flaws.
Whereas I’m ferocious at defending my honor, I am at best lukewarm in defending my sinfulness. Is this Christlike? Well, my Savior regularly told people to keep quiet about the good things He did, and He kept silent, Himself, when He was accused of doing evil.
When, oh when, will I ever be as satisfied with God’s opinion of me as He was?
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