What Is Is Not What Was Assured to Be
Chronicling how poorly I live out my faith (so you can feel better about your efforts)
I complain a lot about my life. (I mean, A LOT.) But the God’s honest truth is that I love my life. And most of the things in it.
I love my family. I love my home. I love my church. I love my phone. I love my favorite fleece pullover. I love my retro Hamm’s Beer Scene-O-Rama sign.
I love these things so much because they make me happy. They make me feel secure. They all add up to a wonderful life.
(Now, I know what you’re thinking. Yes, I know what an idol is. This is nothing like that. I just love, honor, and worship these things. That’s totally different than, like, being committed to God, which I totally am. I’m embarrassed for you that you even brought it up.)
I do truly, truly love these things. And because I have them, and they surround me every day, I have this warped sense that this is my life and that I should expect these things to be a part of my life for as long as I trod this Earth.
Possessive Short-Sightedness
It’s almost a kind of myopia that happens. We get so accustomed to things and routines and people that we don’t stop to think of how we got them, or whether they could change.
Maybe I shouldn’t assume that you have this same warped perception. Maybe you’re the type of person who is deliriously grateful for everything every day. You take nothing for granted and marvel at God’s gifts.
Good for you.
Why are you wasting time reading this, then? You should be writing best-selling books telling me how bad I am at this, instead of me admitting how bad I am at this.
Wake-Up Calls
I would have gone along for another week, month, or year without thinking about this. But a few disparate events over the past week have challenged my worldview that what is – just maybe – wasn’t assured to be.
The first is Thanksgiving. To keep the spirit of the holiday, every year I write out a gratitude journal of all the things I am thankful for. I’m not a naturally grateful person (big surprise to people who know me well), so this is an awkward and empowering experience. It reminds me that I may not deserve all the blessings I have.
Our pastor also gave a message this Sunday that hit me on a couple different levels. The topic was stewardship, or wealth, or some such nonsense, but he included the story of the farmer with too much grain (Luke 12:13-21). (In my Bible, the heading is, “The Parable of the Rich Fool.” What a charming nickname to carry through all eternity.)
The guy has a banner year and is moping because there’s not enough space in his barns to store all of his crops. So he has the perfectly sensible idea to tear down what he has and build bigger so there’s more room for his stuff.
But Jesus points out that the man has a bad case of missing the big picture. He’s fixated on his stuff (totally different than me) and misses the pending ending of his life. He is, Jesus says, not “rich toward God.”
Pregnant Cancer
The pastor also told a story about the health issues his son experienced after birth. It immediately reminded me of the months preceding the birth of our daughter, when my wife was diagnosed with cancer. As we considered the treatment options, I was overwhelmed with fear of potentially losing both my wife and our unborn child. I was never so frenetic in my prayers.
Through God’s great mercy, made real in part through skilled medical professionals, both my wife and daughter survived and thrived.
Not everyone, of course, experiences such a perfect outcome.
But because I did, over the years, too often I have diminished the prospect that they might not be here today. I have come to expect them in my life, forgetting that they almost weren’t.
Finally, I listened to a podcast recommended by
on her wonderful Substack, The Corners. Krista Tippet talked with songwriter Nick Cave about spirituality, music, but mostly loss. As a parent processing the loss of his two sons, Cave’s comments caused me to pause and reflect.Avoiding Loss Aversion
Psychologists talk about the principle of “loss aversion.” In essence, we humans hate loss. The pain of losing something we have is far more impactful emotionally than the pleasure we might get if we acquired the same thing.
In his book, The Catalyst, Jonah Berger talks about a study in which participants were asked how much they would pay to buy a plain white ceramic coffee mug. The consensus: about $3.
When a different group was asked how much they would require to sell a similar mug, their answers averaged more than twice as much: over $7. They envisioned owning the mug and the thought of losing it meant that they would suffer greater harm, so they wanted to be compensated more.
Recognizing Endowment
Berger calls this phenomenon “endowment.” We are endowed with something and we feel its loss very specifically and painfully.
I have been endowed with lots of things; lots of things that I love.
I wonder if that love creates a denial that loss is even an option.
But here’s the thing: we all suffer loss. The things of this world, the things that we see, are temporary, Paul tells the Corinthians in 2 Corinthians 4:18. “…but what is unseen is eternal.”
If you’re looking for a good way to kick off Advent this weekend, I recommend reflecting on what is temporary and what is eternal. And recognizing that while God may have ordained that what we have was meant to be, we shouldn’t hold on to it like it’s eternal.
And if you do hold it that tightly, don’t be surprised that some particularly judgy people accuse you of treating it like an idol.
You know who you are.