Measuring Up

You know, they say be careful what you wish for. I don't know who "they" is, but they're right. At least this time. How is May measuring up to my expectations this year?

I said I didn't want a break from life this time around. I did not want to check out. Trust me, I've been checked right in. Both literally and metaphorically.

See, I'm lying here in a king size bed in one of the nicest hotels I've ever been in. One of the comfiest beds I've slept in for a while (that really isn't a huge accomplishment, given the hot dog bun I've gotten used to this year-- in this analogy, I am the weiner, with the bed completely engulfing me... you get the point). One of the coolest cities in the United States. On vacation with about the best dad I could have dreamed up.

But my heart is also heavy. Because in big cities there are a lot of people. And where there are more people, there is a greater chance that some will not be the same as you. Not the same color, not the same class. Some not here for just a vacation. Some dishonest, some genuine. Some with, some without. Some lazy, some tired. Some hurting, some jubilant. A lot not like me.

A lot basically just like me.

Some have more, some have less. But at their core-- people. Sinning, hurting, doubting people.

And in this city with more people, there is more sin, hurt, and doubt. I guess I should have seen it coming, you know. But I am just perplexed. Because I just can't seem to reconcile the fact that I have so much while I can actually hear people outside with not a lot walking about. I hear sirens and voices and horns-- the city. I also hear Tenth Avenue North's "Love is Here" blasting in my headphones. Love is here. Love is supposedly in me.

Love is me. Or it's supposed to be.

Somehow I just don't feel like I'm measuring up.

Last night as Dad and I walked back from seeing Wolverine and dining at Ruth's Chris (Ruths Chris? Ruth Chris? Ruth Chris's? ... Ruth's Chris sounds like Ruth possesses Chris. Which is creepy. But I think that's what it really is. A simple google search could have saved you from this tangent. My apologies) we were stopped by a man who didn't take a breath while giving us a five minute explanation for his exasperation. His car was towed early afternoon, the tow truck company is apparently closed until Monday morning, the police would not help, he had no way to get home except for some guy at McDonald's who agreed to drive him home to Virginia for 30 dollars worth of gas, which this man did not have on him. So he needed 30 dollars from us, which he promised to mail back to us once he got home to his wife and kids and had his checkbook on him. He repeatedly assured us he was no beggar and he hated that he was having to ask for money on the streets, but that no one since he started his quest for financial help at 4 would pay him attention. Much less the 30 dollars.

I was skeptical. But I did feel bad for the man. Dad had been standing a little behind me and I heard his voice speak up. Something along the lines of "we're sorry but we aren't going to be able to help, thank you for sharing with us, good luck, good night." I instictively turned to follow dad as we walked that last few feet to our hotel. Almost immediately he asked me what I would have done. I shrugged my shoulders and really didn't have the words.

In my silence, as he opened the main door to the hotel, Dad told me that years ago while he and mom were in D.C. a polished man came up and said he needed some money for the metro and a cab to get home, so Dad gave him 20 dollars. He then watched as the man took it over to a group of homeless men in the corner and looked back at Dad like "I got you." And since then Dad's been afraid to be cheated. He said that he knew it probably wasn't right and that he would have to answer for it one day. Then he asked me an even harder question than "what would you have done." It was "did I just hurt Jesus' heart by not giving to that man?"

Followed, of course, by "and if so, what would you have done?" I retreated into logic, of course. Which is funny because most times I don't automatically just start thinking logistically. Shocker, I'm sure. My answer was "I don't have 30 dollars to give him." It is a true story. And it was a great attempt to take the guilt and shame off of my shoulders. So then Dad asked what I would do if he gave me 30 dollars right then. Would I run down and give it to the man?

I'll probably always regret that I didn't. And I'm a person who hates to have regrets. They make me feel like I'm not measuring up.

I again layed it all out nice and logistically. "Even if you gave me that money, it would be a gift to me. Free of any labor on my part. Free of pressures like a house payment or car payments or a family to feed. For me there are hardly any outside factors (other than, say, how many People magazines I could buy) to keep me from giving that money away." For Dad there are. And I didn't want to insult him by implying that I was the better person and that I would have absolutely given the man the money. In that moment, I wasn't absolutely sure I would have. The more I thought about it, the guiltier I felt about the whole situation, so I settled the issue with a big sigh and an "I don't know." I don't know how things turned out with the man. I hate that, because I could know. I could have ended his problem (at least the one he said he had) right then. Upon reflection, I am absolutely sure I'm sorry I didn't.

He could have been lying. He could have taken my money and shared it with his other homeless friends. And they could be homeless because they've been lazy and haven't worked hard enough to get a job. They could be alcoholics. They may be going to buy drugs. Or, they might just need a meal. My "benefit of the doubt" nature kicks in here and tends to believe in the latter. Either way, I'd rather give to a person and be cheated than not give to a person who really is in need. To me it doesn't really matter why they're in need, it's just that they are. And I don't think Jesus put conditions on the situation when he said straight up "give to the poor."

For a day now I've been thinking about my response to Dad. The "it would be a gift" response where I said the money wouldn't be as valuable to me as it is to him. I'm thinking I may have been on to something there, but certainly not in my defense. It's in the man's defense, and it hurts a little pride.

I see little six year old me. I'm talking to Dr. John about becoming a Christian, what it means to have Him in my heart, what sin is, why Jesus died for me. We're discussing why exactly a person needs Jesus. In short, the answer is because without Him my life is nothing. But that through Jesus, God offers eternal life and significance on Earth. It sounded so logical then, and I believe it now. But somehow, logistics has taken me away from that simple truth.

My life is a gift.

I told Dad that if I had the 30 dollars given to me, yes I would be more likely to go down and help that man. I would be less attached to the money than Dad because I have less responsibilities and my labor hasn't gone into it. That is the point, Sadie!

This life I have, it is not mine. Because without God, my life is nothing. Anything that I do have is from God and it is a gift. And I should be way less attached to my life and the stuff in it than I currently am. Because since it was free to me, I should be freely giving it away. Sometimes I wish God hadn't extended salvation, His free gift, to me. Give it to someone else who'll use it more wisely. Like Angie Smith or Jennifer MckMillen or Mark Evans. I mean, the free gift is great and all, but why don't You hold on to the responsibility that comes with it, God. Or at least hand it off to someone more equipped to handle it. That'd be great. K thanks.

I was wrong to suggest Dad had more responsibilities, which make it harder for him to give up the money than for me. Because, you see, the moment the money is given to me, the responsibility is on me. Sure, it's not in the form of rent or gas or a balance at the grocery store. All of those weights are lifted once it becomes a gift. But what I do with the gift becomes my responsibility. The main responsibility, as far as I see it, is to stop being so dang attached to my stuff...

...and to start giving in the name of the salvation I have been offered. Because if I'm not, I'm just singing along to some fluffy, irrelevant lyrics. I'm not love. And to other people, there is no evidence that Love is in me.

Seems like a waste of a free gift to me. Mostly it makes me feel like I'm not measuring up to what I've been given. And that stings a little tonight.

"Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also... From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked."

--Luke 12:32-34, 48

"This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our borthers. If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of God be in him? Dear children, let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth"

-I John 3:16-18