I’m struggling to find words. Not ideas. Just the words to share those ideas in a way that is kind and loving and not grumpy or angry. I’ve written and rewritten. Edited and tweaked. Debated.
You see, I have a component to my personality that can sometimes be beneficial, but other times it’s a bit of a nuisance. I can easily see multiple perspectives of a story. I can understand, and even empathize with, two sides of an argument — yes, even when my own opinions fall heavily on one side or the other. While I can’t always envision how our actions and words will ripple into the future (my husband is a genius at that!), I can see multiple responses to situations happening in the moment. And in this moment, that vision is breaking my heart. And I want to share it so other people can understand. But can I? Here’s my attempt, feeble though it may be.
We’re heading into the time of year when stories of generosity will flood our media. We’ll be drawn to the heartwarming tales of people whose lives were impacted by extravagant gifts as well as to the people or organizations that make those gifts happen.
We as Christians love to not only hear these stories but to also find a way to be a part of these stories. We want to show how we are being the generous hands and feet of Jesus. On the one hand, it’s not a bad thing to be active participants in these stories. But there’s another side to this tale that we also need to consider, and that’s the side of the everyday people who are watching as we broadly and boldly declare our generous acts for all to see.
We need to consider the grocery store cashier or restaurant server who is hoping and begging for enough hours to simply pay their bills. They have no clue how they’ll go beyond that and be able to give gifts to their loved ones. But, they watch as the church crowd floods their workplaces, still dressed in our Sunday best and talking about the sweet time we had blessing gifts to be sent out to the uttermost parts of the world. But, even as we talk about our own generosity, we’ve already turned off our Christ-like attitudes to the people serving us. We are rude. We are demanding. And we are the opposite of generous. They watch as we come into their stores or to their teller windows harried and grumpy. They deliver our packages or take our customer service complaints. We end up taking out our frustration on them because they are…there. They’re just faces waiting to meet our needs or voices on the other end of the phone call to hear our complaints. It’s not that we’d ever admit to seeing them as sub-human. It’s just that we don’t stop and think of them as individuals with their own joys and hurts and struggles and passions. They’re just there to take care of our immediate needs, and then we move on and they keep on. As a result, we’re not careful with how we handle their hearts.
The thing is, they see us. They hear our conversations and see the news flashes about how we’ve delivered Thanksgiving meals to the poor, packed Christmas shoe boxes, fulfilled Angel Tree wishes, and more. They see how we broadcast our giving. They see the pretties we put on picture-perfect social media. The stories that go up in shining lights because they make us feel good. (Matthew 6 kind of punches me in the gut right here.) But then they feel the brunt of our reality. Our harried lives. Our stresses and strains. Our hurts that twist our actions. All of which we end up taking out on them.
It’s may not be intentional on our part. It’s just…life.
But maybe that’s my point. My heart is aching because of the way we live life. It’s aching because we are so concerned that other people know we’re participating in the socially acceptable modes of alms-giving that it distracts us from the act of giving life to others. Because what better gift could there be?
And yet, in many cases, we’re giving the opposite. We’re giving hopelessness. We’re removing the chance for so many people to see the goodness of God because we’re focused on our heartwarming stories instead of on speaking love into their everyday stories of hurt. They don’t see God’s goodness lavished on them. They just see that they’re not worthy of it. They perceive that God only wants to give when it makes for a good story, and they’ll never be a good enough story.
Ouch.
I’m not saying that we should stop our generosity. When we are able to give gifts this time of year, they do make a difference, as they do when we help meet needs of teachers and students at the beginning of a school year or take action to help alleviate the massive food insecurity that exists right around us.
But I can’t help but wonder what would happen if we would put more energy into daily life-giving than into making sure our community knows what kind of gift-giving we’ve chosen this year. What would happen if we were to bestow kindness upon the store clerk who rings up the gifts we’re purchasing? What would happen if we were able to deliver a Thanksgiving meal without making the recipient feel the shame that comes from needing it in the first place?
What if instead of trying to engage in elaborate, life-changing events, we were to change the way we live our daily lives? Could it be that we wouldn’t need the elaborate because the daily, mundane activities would make the difference? It would be without fanfare. It might not even make for a feel-good story to share. But it could give life. What better gift exists?
Not Quite Ordinary 