26 Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. 27 But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. 28 God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, 29 so that no one may boast before him. 30 It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God—that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption. 31 Therefore, as it is written: “Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord.” (I Corinthians 1)
I'm really not opposed to the notion of loving life. By God, I believe there is more to be said about contentedness (paired with holy discontent) than Christians often make a part of the conversation. By "by God" I mean "through Jesus." As in "because of Christmas." Like "the whole point of celebrating this season." Yes, through Jesus we have reason to perhaps irrationally adjust ourselves to this life-- its disappointments and fleeting emotions-- because in honesty, we believe the best is yet to come.
And it is in that spirit (not this oxymoronic anti-contentedness Christmas spirit of this bustling season that our consumerist culture manages to conjure up every year) that I can fervently proclaim "I don't want to love my life away!" It just isn't worth it.
As much as there is this great family to surround me as we pray in the driveway of our 21 year old home.
Even when there is a beautiful, healthy 3 1/2 month old to kiss.
While we get the privilege of setting up a new home with a truckload of beautiful, pleasurable things accumulated over the aforementioned years.
Though there are friends who consider me worthy of their time (even sometimes to the point of being disappointed when I don't take it).
Though truly loveable people flow in and out of the door marked 931 on a weekly basis.
Yes, even with a job that pays me more than I want for something I want to do anyway (this one especially).
It's not worth loving all up on this life.
That is the fastest way to waste it.
Oh, it's so easy to condemn the one without a job. The person who drank away their problems. The kid who did the drugs too hard. The father that walked away. The mom who pursued the affair. The pastor that used poor judgement. Those other people. They wasted their lives away.
"Not me, not I," said the happy one. The self-assured, happy-go-lucky, well-adjusted, self-sufficient, successful one surely had it all. And boy did she love her life. Until the day she stood before the God Who Chooses the lowly things of this earth and realized how little she was actually ever drawn to the "righteousness, holiness and redemption" of the LORD who shames the wise. The One (and perhaps sometimes the only one) who never cared about human standards, because He was never (actually, despite our best efforts) confined by them.
She hardly ever needed those things because she was loving her life away.
We're better wasters of our lives than we let on. Than our titles or bank accounts or plans or diplomas or pictures or smiles let on.
But.
We're also worth more than our lives let on. Than our drinks or drugs or tax returns or laundry piles or tears or depressed thoughts might suggest. Those things that make us feel like we're most days only managing? God has so much more than that for us. Period.
Still, the opposite of "just getting by" is not "reveling in everything I have." That leaves the door wide open for fakers. Like those it is so frustrating to meet behind the doors of all those buildings with the crosses painted on them. Fakers just like you and me. Those who say "well I don't really love my life, but I might could convince the world I do so they'll think more highly of me."
Turns out the difference between loving life and hating it here on Earth is something so small as an unexpected meeting with a boss during which he or she says something like, "it just had to be somebody. It's nothing personal." Perhaps it's five words along the lines of "we did everything we could" that make the difference. Maybe it's not that momentous. Sometimes the difference between a life worth loving or hating by the standards of this world is deeply rooted in who the parents are and what kind of support they offered their child. Some get that great support, others don't. Happy home, mad home.
So I haven't heard those words. So I've had the support and the happy. Should I wish it away?
By any sort of "fluke" I could be sitting on the opposite end of the spectrum. If so, should I wish it away?
No on both accounts. Why? Because either way a.) I'd be fooling myself to believe I have control of the slidy thingy (that's a highly technical term) and b.) I'd still be operating within the spectrum on which any point leaves something to be desired.
Either way-- fortunate or unfortunate, privileged or under-- my happiness or anger would be directed towards the One who does have control of the slidy thingy. So the real challenge is to make my peace with Him. Or better yet, make His peace on this Earth with whatever I have because I sit where I do on that spectrum for a reason. And the discontent only comes from not believing Him enough to make that peace and purpose happen regardless of where I'm coming from.
So I don't want to love my life to the extent that I forget the God who put me here and then let it slip my mind to pursue the why.
I also don't want to get to a place of disliking my life to the point that I keep the facade of loving it just so people might peg me as further up in the contentedness and "blessed" spectrum.
The difference between the two scenarios is an amazingly thin line. And a really, really fragile line at that.
In conclusion. {I heard that}
I don't want to love my life away, because I would hate to hate my life away should the circumstances come along that would "justify" that. I also don't want to love my life away because, circumstances to love or not, there is just more to life than that.
More.
I am content in knowing that.
Or at least getting to know Him.
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