Day 463 - I Need People

"We buy things we don't need with money we don't have to impress people we don't like." Dave Ramsay

The only thing I question about that statement is the end. I've been raised around too many hoarders to think that the accumulation of stuff is to impress people. Take it with a grain of salt as I have no formal training in the matter, but I think the accumulation of stuff in our homes, in our lives, is due to the fact that our relationships are becoming more and more shallow, time together is compromised, and we are flooded with fear of forgetting or being forgotten.

What is undeniable, however, is that we live in a culture defined by stuff. We have more stuff than ever. Despite an economy that is hurting, ever increasing personal debt, and houses that are built with 3x more space than that of our parents and grandparents, the market for personal storage units continues to steadily grow and is at an all time high. And it's not just continual accumulation of our own stuff (and a stubborn refusal to get rid of stuff), we love other people's stuff. Antiques Road Show has been on for decades, but Hoarders, Storage Wars, Pawn Stars, American Pickers, etc. are more popular than ever. And I'm not exempt. It is a well known fact that when I need to get motivated to clean, I watch an episode (or 6) of Hoarders. And I find Storage Wars fascinating. I just do.

I've been thinking about stuff a lot lately as Anthem have been packing up our small apartment to move in with his parents. It's a win win situation for both families in this economy and we hope at the end of a year and a half to have saved up enough money to put a down payment on a house of our own. We're very excited to help each other out during this transition, as well as having Haven come home to a large family. That being said, it also means we have to cut down on our stuff significantly. Every item we own has to be assessed into one of three categories: move, store, or let go. Considering we already don't have very much, and plan on getting our own home in the next year or two, getting rid of all of our furniture, kitchen supplies, books, linens, etc. wouldn't be very wise. But we can only take essentials with us. And Haven has a lot of essentials already, leaving Anthem and I with enough room for little more than toothbrushes and laptops.

At first it was sort of difficult. After all, you surround yourself with things that you need and want. That's why you bought it in the first place. But the truth is that I don't need to have instant access to every book I have accumulated over the years, nor my entire and extensive blanket collection (I used to live in a much colder climate). I don't need most of my kitchen ware as we're moving into a fully stocked home, so the same goes for our dining ware and most of our furniture. As we kept going though, it became easier and easier to realize the things I really do use all the time (toothbrush, deodorant, cell phone, lap top) are a lot fewer than I had thought. It was liberating. I was flooded with appreciation for the little things, and felt lighter every time we decided we didn't need something.

Most of our things we've packed to store because while we won't need them for the next year, we will need them again soon. But the beautiful thing of being forced to go through all of your earthly possessions is finding all the things you haven't touched in the last year. Like the beautiful comforter that Anthem and I have never used because it's just wildly impractical. It's silky for goodness sake, which means that it will slide right off the bed as soon as you crawl under it. It's incredibly annoying, rather loud, and absolutely beautiful. We're selling it. Along with our nice, and rather uncomfortable love seat. Along with half my blanket collection and a few of Anthem's old pedals. Oh and some books that we've never read and to be honest aren't going to read. And each time we made the decision to let go of something, I felt free. And we made the decision to never again hold onto something 'because we might need it/use it someday'. Like the comforter. And the books. The self deception ended.

And after being forced to look at every item critically, I have come to a single conclusion. I don't need stuff. Some of it is really, really nice. My toothbrush. My bed. My favorite pair of tennis shoes. But I don't need it. I need people. I need my husband and Haven. I need my family and friends. But I do not need stuff.

And I don't need stuff to remind me of them.

Isn't that why we keep so many things we're not using anymore? Because it reminds of us of a person that we love (especially if it's one we have lost) or a wonderful time in our life. So many of those things quickly become clutter. For instance. My dad went to the Grand Canyon once and brought me back a stick. I know it seems weird, but it was a gorgeous, artwork-ish stick and I held onto it for years because it reminded me of my dad. During one of my many moves over the last few years, however, I came to the conclusion that while it was a beautiful stick, it was indeed just a stick and that getting rid of it was not a reflection of my feelings toward my dad. I just didn't want to haul a stick around from apartment to apartment when I had a picture of the two of us that reminded me of him just fine. Because clutter doesn't enhance my life, even if it's clutter full of memories. Those people enhance my life, and I want to keep making memories with them, not holding onto old ones.

It took me years to learn that letting go of something someone I loved gave me was not a reflection of how I felt about that person. Letting go of something that reminds me of you does not equate to letting go of you. In fact, letting go of stuff makes more room for the people you love to fill you. And not just emotionally, or even spatially. But financially. A lot of the things Anthem and I have decided to let go of we're selling. Because other people will pay for our used things.

My mother is the perfect example of this. I was raised in a six bedroom house that was fully furnished. Over the years, we've moved into apartments, and then smaller apartments, and then smaller apartments. Suffice it to say, she doesn't have the same needs as when she had a six bedroom house, or even when she and I lived together. Instead of holding onto all that stuff, she's decided to sell it and use the money to come visit Anthem and I this summer. It's a win win. Less stuff, more freedom, and more room for the people she loves even as she let's go of things that remind her of us. I'm so incredibly proud of her. And I'm inspired by her.

At the end of this day, and the end of this post, I want to remind you (and myself as I continue to pack) of one final thing. Even our most treasured possessions will not pass beyond the grave with us. We can take nothing with us. But our relationships endure the grave. So that's where I'm determined to invest my time and my money. Not in things, but in people. Because I don't need things. I need people. 

Day 461 - When You Run Out

It is really, really hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that I cannot earn God’s love or blessings. You know, of course I’m not trying to earn either one. Nooooo. No. Maybe, you know, it would just be easier for God to love me and bless me if I read my bible every day and spent more time feeding the poor or praying over the worship services my husband leads or any of the other billion things I really should be doing.

Maybe… just maybe… if I did those things He’d hear me a little louder. Because I know He loves me. Right? I mean we all know that. Even when prayers go unanswered for years. Even when you’re desperate and He’s silent. Even when it seems like He’s either deaf or mad at you because if He really is your Father then He’d do what any dad would do and loan you some money so you can pay rent, right!? Right. Because we know He loves us, regardless of those things.

Right. Oh screw it. No. I don’t. Not always. Not before the last few months. Weeks. Ugh. Fine. Days. The last few days. I mean it’s really easy to believe it when everything is great. When you’ve got enough to cover your bills and you’re marrying the man of your dreams (or who turns out to be the man of your dreams, if you’re me) and you find out you’re pregnant and your baby is healthy then obviously God loves us.

But when you’re not sure how you’re going to pay the car payment that was due almost a month ago, and when you’ve been broke and couldn’t find a job when you could, got fired for the first time ever when you finally did, and then were too pregnant (and sick, to be really honest) to be hired before the baby comes. When you can’t take the birthing classes you wanted to because they cost too much and can’t hire a doula or a midwife because your insurance doesn’t cover it and you’re concerned about how you’re going to put gas in the car let alone paying a few hundred dollars, minimum, for a more natural birth experience. When you know you can’t be worrying about all this stuff  because it’s not good for the baby to have a stressed out mom and you’re doing all you can (which isn’t much) to help with the bills with babysitting jobs while your husband is doing everything he can to make enough and the jobs just won’t come. Then… then it’s really hard to keep believing that He loves us. You. Me. It’s really hard to believe that He loves me. It’s really hard to believe that He hasn’t completely abandoned me. It’s really hard to believe that He’s not punishing me, that I couldn’t do something – anything – to appease Him and get some ‘blessings’ flowing my direction. It’s really, really hard to trust that He’s taking care of us.

It’s really hard to not lose hope and just give up because what does it matter anyway? He’s not listening. We’re suffering. And no matter what I do, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that I put in over 100 applications and never heard anything back. It doesn’t matter that I worked my ass off, threw up at, on my way to, on my way home from, yet always wore a smile at the one job I did really manage to get because I was fired because (and I can’t prove this, but I was told that my being let go had absolutely nothing to do with job performance) I was pregnant and they didn’t want to deal with maternity leave. Or that the moving jobs that were once the bread and butter on which we survived just aren’t coming in anymore. No matter how much I try to scrimp and save we have been living week by week since we got married, and now are going day to day. I’ve broken down in tears about it a few times. I was scared. What if we got evicted? What if they had to repo my car? How would we ever get a house if my credit was ruined by a missed payment? How were we going to make sure we could take care of this baby when we didn’t have an extra ten dollars for the laundry mat? There may have been an end in sight but it was a year, or two, away and by then we’d be living on the street.

And then… then… I started to realize that He was changing me. That we were impoverished because He loved us, not in spite of it. To be clear: I subscribe to neither poverty theology nor health and wealth. What matters in both is the heart, and that what He was working on. Not my checkbook.

I realized that I was discontented with Our relationship. I wanted more from my faith than me begging constantly for the peace of mind that more money would bring and His constant silence. I wanted more. I needed more. I wanted to know Who He is; I wanted to know He had me no matter what happened, I wanted to ask for what mattered. I wanted my prayers to be filled with requests the ability to touch hearts, for peace among His people, for opportunities to serve, for my family, for my child. I wanted my prayers to change me, not my bank account. I found my chase after money, and the peace that it did indeed bring, to be empty, even though I never seemed to find any. Peace or money.

Our circumstances have changed slightly. It’s still tight, but at least it’s doable. Or it will be by the end of March. And there is not a darn thing I can do about it between now and then but trust that He’s got us. Because I don’t have anything to give. I’ve run out. I have no more tears to shed in fear, not when I am powerless and He is all. Not when I realize that losing some of my credit will not destroy my life, neither this one nor the next. Not when I realize that nothing is permanent. Not when I realize that we’re surrounded by family and my son will never go hungry or lack for a warm place to stay. There are more important things on which to spend my waking hours than checking and rechecking the fact that it doesn’t appear like we’re going to make it. A single opportunity, not missed but embraced and blessed, for the Lord to make another lost soul a Child is worth more than any dollar amount of which I could conceive. A closer walk with Him will do more for me in now and eternity than any measure of security I could get by actually having a savings account.

Please understand, being wise with money, living within our means, saving for our and Haven’s future is all quite important to us. But our poverty has held my attention to the exclusion of the things that do matter. And that is not okay.

Most of all, and this I cannot stress enough, my hope was not in God. My hope was not in His redemptive work in my life. My hope was not how I could spend my life to serve Him, or the ability to be His child, His beloved child, for now and for all time. My hope was stubbornly hoping that someday we wouldn’t be broke. That was my goal. Nothing productive could happen in our life until that day. Until we were set. Until I could open a savings account and go to the grocery store without worrying about overdraft fees. Then I could work with God, for Him, whole heartedly. Then I would know He loved us. Then I could have a functional relationship with Him again. Then I could focus on what He wanted for us. I could go through all sorts of things so long as it wasn’t poverty anymore.

Not shockingly: I was constantly frustrated and disappointed. I constantly felt abandoned and hopeless. I would want to hear God promising an end to this cycle. I would want that to be one of His promises. It isn’t. He didn’t protect His followers from death, I can guarantee you that He won’t protect you from a missed payment. Even if you are reading your bible every day. I was stuck in a hamster wheel of hope and disappointment because a savings account is a really, really stupid place to put your hope in. No, not yours. Mine. It is a really, really stupid thing that I was doing for years.

Ugh. As if the honesty of this post didn’t hurt enough already – let’s just make it a bit worse, shall we? (Deep breath, band-aid ripped.) Because before my hope was in a savings account, it was in a man (no, not my husband, thank God) but in a man who never showed up (again, thank God). And before it was in a man it was in a job. I can’t imagine it’s as emotional for you to read that as it was for me to write it, but… that hurt.

And here’s where it starts to stop hurting my heart, and start hurting my mind through the process of boggling. God, in His infinite wisdom, used our poverty to smash my idol. My pride went into hiding when I had to ask to borrow money to make a payment on my car. My deep, deep desire for financial security lost its giant priority status when I realized that my credit rating didn’t define me and there were worse things in the world than losing a few points off it. I want a relationship with God, deep, deep in my soul, I want that more than a savings account. I want that more than a house. I want that more than all the adventures I want to take around the world someday. I want that more than anything. And nothing – nothing can take that from me. My salvation is not connected in anyway with late or missed or on time payments.

When I finally hit the place I had been dreading, when I couldn’t make it work with what I had, when I lost what I had fought so hard for, namely the ability to be financially independent and never need to ask for help, that my idol crumbled down around me and I could see the true goal. I could see Him, and how His silence has been a loving guide to this beautiful moment.

And now I’m sharing it with you. Because my pride be damned. Because as my idol crumbles, I pray that yours would too. Because I’m tired of seeing my friends be trapped in the same trap, in the same hamster wheel of false hope, and the inevitable disappointment and anger and sense of abandonment that comes with false hope.

Often times, we've run in these hamster wheels together. Pushing each other forward, encouraging each other. Only now do I see how wrong that is, that we were all lusting after idols and not enjoying our God. Not enjoying Him or what He had already blessed us with. Not even wanting to. Putting our whole lives on hold, putting our very souls on hold, until we got what we wanted from God. What we believed, what we had convinced ourselves He had promised us.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I spurred you on toward your idol. I'm sorry I thanked you for pushing me to mine. I'm sorry I didn't know the truth to tell you. The truth I wish someone had told me, even though it's more than likely I wouldn't have listened. Because it's hard, the truth. Because it's not what you want to hear, it's not what any of us want to hear. But it is what we all need to hear.

In a world full of health and wealth preachers, we desperately need to remember the truth. In a world where we are told, repeatedly, that we have EARNED these blessings if we only cling to them, God will be forced to give them to us. I saw a video on the internet a few days ago, where a woman was trying to encourage her followers that God would repay her seven times what had been lost. We're told God owes us. We're told to project good thoughts and our desires will come. We're told all of this spiritual bullshit that chains us and keeps us from the true Joy. It keeps us from Him by filling us with false desires and false promises. It is nothing but bondage.

The real promise is that He will never leave us, nor forsake us. He promised us eternal life, with Him. He promised us a relationship with the Father. The real promise is that if we accept Him, we are going to suffer. Maybe it will be our relationships, maybe our finances, maybe our jobs, maybe our health. Suffering will come. We are not greater than our Master, and Jesus suffered. He promised us we would too. Not once did He ever promise to change the world to better suit our wants. He promised He would change us. 

So here it is. Here's what I wish I had known a long time ago, when my hope was in a job, a man, a savings account.

You are not your job. You're not your diploma, your degree, or your paycheck. You're not what your friends think about you, or your critics for that matter. Being a high powered lawyer/doctor/sales rep/coordinator/director/ whatever it is you feel you need to be to be whole, recognized, appreciated, etc  is not you. You may never get that job you think is going to 'set you'. And if you do, you'll be disappointed because it's not what you wanted it to be, and you won't feel like you wanted to feel. You'll still be you. The same you before you got the job. It's not going to change you. It's not going to save you. It's just a job. Chances are you will have many.

Maybe that man will never come. And that’s not God punishing you, nor not following through on His promises. He’s not ignoring you. You can’t earn that man. And no matter how long you wait there is no promise that he will ever show up. And when that man is your hope, you will know nothing but disappointment. Even if he comes, you will know nothing but disappointment because he cannot change you from the inside out. He cannot fill you, nor fulfill all that you long for. Because he is not your reward. He is not the end. God is. And you don’t have to wait. You don’t have to be disappointed. You don’t have to feel abandoned and angry and disappointed. You don’t have to blame God or yourself for once again losing hope.

Maybe you'll always be poor. Judging by the current state of the economy, there is absolutely no guarantee that you’re going to strike it rich one day. And if you’re waiting for money, for your circumstances to change, you might just be waiting the rest of your life. It grieves me to see you hope and hope and hope until you have a mental, emotional, and spiritual breakdown because the weight of the constant disappointment is too much to bear. Maybe your life isn't going to be what you thought it was going to be. Maybe it's not headed where you thought it was. But it's yours, and God loves you, and He is in control, no matter what happens. And He can change you right now. He can give you joy, even if you're still broke, and lonely, and confused. He is your joy. He is. 

Maybe we all have super messed up priorities. Maybe we’ve lost sight of the gospel. Of what He really gave. Of the security eternal life offers. Of the joy of a relationship with the Creator God who made us all and in whom all good things have their source. Of the need to share this news with everyone.

Of the need to be free of this bondage in which we put ourselves, and the need to show the world what freedom really looks like.

Of the need to live freely.

(Note: it has nothing to do with America or being American.)

I’m still at the epiphany stage of all of this but I can tell you one thing: tonight the only reason I’m not going to sleep is because it appears my lovely unborn son has found a way to kick my nerves and send shooting pain to random places and not because I’m worried about being broke. And maybe, during the 3am Fringe marathon that helps distract me from being so incredibly uncomfortable, I’ll say a prayer to the real goal and thank Him for my freedom and beg Him to never let me lose sight of it. No matter how much suffering that path leads me through. Because He’s worth it. Because He’ll never disappoint you. Because He will get you out of the wheel.

I love you guys. Thanks for reading.