Giving...

It's the time of year at church again where we make our annual giving pledges. I've been thinking a lot lately about the whole idea of giving, and the idea of tithing 10 percent, and since yesterday's sermon, I've been thinking about the concept of giving with a thankful heart and not out of obligation. Actually, I think that came from "a time for children" and not the sermon, but at least I was paying attention to something.

I don't really have any well-formed thoughts on the subject yet. It's just something that's currently weighing on my heart and that I'm praying about. I've always considered tithing something that Christians are sort of obligated to do. And honestly, I never feel particularly thankful or joyful as I put my money in the offering plate. But the idea of giving to the church, more specifically, giving ten percent, came from the early practice of giving the first ten percent of one's harvest as an offering to God. The first ten percent-- that's what gets me. How can I give the first ten percent and know that I have enough left over for myself? A selfish thought, yes, but I'm not the only person who thinks this. Isn't it easier to see what's left over at the end and then give what I can? Does that defeat the purpose of giving? It's still giving, after all.

I think this is where faith comes in, and this is where it gets hard for me. I've heard people say they give ten percent of their paycheck as soon as they're paid, and then they trust that it will work out in the end. And honestly, the thought of doing that is really stressing me out. How can I trust that the numbers will just work out in the end? If I do the math on paper and it's not adding up, is there some sort of "magic math" that happens as soon as my money hits the collection plate? I know I'm being called to give, and to do so with a joyful heart. And this is where my faith is being tested. This is where I need to keep thinking, and praying and reading so that I can be at peace about my giving. I'm sure I'll be writing about this for a while!

Peace, Pigskin, and Pessimism

This weekend I took my new peaceful self on the road, and I realized this would be a good chance for me to see how calm I can be while dealing with the inevitable hassles of traveling. Of course, when I'm dealing with a travel-related issue, I never remember in that moment to stay calm and find peace. It's always after, when I'm reliving the situation, that I realize how un-peaceful I really was. The weekend was just chock full of opportunities to lose my peaceful focus: an 8-hour roadtrip with my family; driving in a caravan with two other cars; dealing with rainy weather; and watching football. The whole family/football thing was no big deal. My family and I travel really well together, and I am just generally very apathetic about football (the same cannot be said about basketball, however). We went to the Indiana/Michigan game, which was a bit of a family rivalry since dad is a Michigan fan and Brother went to Indiana. The other people in our caravan were some of dad's Michigan buddies. There were, however, three situations in which I felt my sense of calm was being tested.
First, we had to deal with some rainy weather. Ugh, just typing that made me feel whiny. The thing is, a 30% chance of rain in Memphis means it's not going to rain. We learned that a 30% chance of rain in Bloomington, Indiana, means not only is it going to rain, but the rain is going to just settle right over the parking lot where you are trying to fire up your fancy tailgate grill. The whole time the rain was falling, I was fretting. I worried that my jacket wasn't waterproof. I worried that my shoes weren't waterproof. I worried that I didn't have on enough layers to combat the icy temperatures. I even (so shameful) worried about my hair. The rain did finally end; we grilled up an amazing lunch, and the weather during the game was absolutely perfect, albeit a little chilly. I regret the amount of time I spent worrying about the weather. I wish I had just given myself a weather pep talk (I do this a lot... it goes something like "It's raining, and it's going to be raining for a while. You will get wet. Deal with it and move on." It's how I made it through this summer's record high temps. Yes, I'm a nerd) and allowed myself to enjoy the day despite the showers.
Of course, I also think my bad attitude toward the rain was partly due to my exposure to Peace Roadblock #2, who I will just call Negative Nancy. One of the couples in our caravan was someone my dad met while watching Michigan football. No one we were with knew them very well, but when we found out they had tickets to the game they were invited to caravan and tailgate with us. The husband was very nice. The wife was very... well, just negative. She hated everything we did. She complained that the drive took eight hours instead of seven, and she argued this point as if she thought she could magically erase an hour from the drive. She was too tired to join us for dinner. And on Saturday, the first thing out of her mouth at the rainy tailgate was "I hate this place!" She made friends with some people who had a tent, stood in the corner of their tent all day, and didn't open her mouth except to complain about the rain, the cold, her hair (yes, this is sounding familiar. I am ashamed of myself. But at least I just spent the day worrying to myself instead of complaining to others... right? Right?) Her negativity became a bit of a joke to Brother and me. We started anticipating what she would complain about next. At the end of the game, which her team won, and which she almost missed because she wanted to sit in the car by herself instead of sit out in the cold, she came up to us and blurted out, "This was one game I was hoping wouldn't go into overtime! I don't want to sit out here any longer than I already have!" Really??? That was the best game I've watched in a while, and that's all you can say? Okay, sorry, I can feel myself losing my cool as I type.
I think what I learned from that was how much I let others' opinions affect mine. Maybe I would have been okay with the rain if she hadn't complained about it so much. Or maybe I'm just unfairly blaming her for my bad attitude. I think maybe it's a little bit of both. I think I could have snapped out of my rain-induced funk and truly enjoyed our soggy tailgate if she hadn't been with us. Negative people are draining. You can try disagreeing with them, you can try being positive when they're being Debbie Downers, but in the end is it really worth the effort to keep reasoning with them? They'll wear you out or they'll pull you down with them. Either way, you end up negative too.
How often have I been that negative person? Have I ever been the Debbie Downer who ruined someone else's weekend? Have I complained so much about something that it became exhausting for others to be around me? I feel like that's not very peaceful of me. Unloading my problems on unsuspecting bystanders... that's not who I want to be. And I don't know what the answer is here. Do I pray for a joyful heart, for the ability to stay positive in situations that would normally get me down? Do I pray for the ability to rejoice during times of trial (knowing that the testing of my faith produces patience, according to James 1:2-4)? Maybe I'll try that and see where it gets me.

A Metaphor

I had a rare flash of insight the other night when I was at choir practice. Church choirs are made up of a mix of people who can sing really well and people who aren’t the best singers but still want to participate and glorify God through music. I’ve noticed (I’m sure this is true for all choirs) that sometimes the better singers try to sing extra-loud as a way of “helping” the singers who, well, aren’t as good. I have caught myself singing too loudly in choir on many occasions, but it’s not because I think I’m better and that the other singers need my help. When I was in college and had the privilege of singing with a group of incredible musicians, I sang loudly. I know those singers and music majors didn’t need my “help.” I just sometimes get caught up in listening to myself and I forget that I’m supposed to be blending with the rest of my section. But when I do remember this, when I match my volume to the singers around me and really focus on how the different voices combine, it’s beautiful. I love singing dissonant chords. I love being the note in the chord that eventually resolves. I love hearing how the altos voices blend with the tenors, while the basses' voices thrum on those low notes that hold the whole chord together.

My flash of insight came when I compared my choir self to my out-in-the-world self. I get caught up in my own life, worried about my own issues, focusing only on myself. And how am I supposed to blend with my environment, with the people in my life, if I’m only listening to myself sing? I think that part of being peaceful is being at peace with my surroundings and learning to live peacefully with others. This means shifting my focus from just myself to how I blend with the people around me. And it makes a difference! Talking to others, even exchanging a few words with the woman who is in front of me in the checkout line, or saying hello to my neighbors reminds me that I’m part of a community. I like being an active participant in the world, and I am called to interact with those around me in a peaceful manner, with a joyful heart, and with a feeling of love and tolerance toward total strangers. All of our voices and lives together, as a community, are more beautiful and more pleasing to God than anything I could do, any noise I could make, on my own. God, grant me the ability to listen to the other voices in the choir too, and to make sure that my voice blends with the others to create a beautiful noise.

Using my inside voice

I am a loud person. I am that person whose friends shush her in public places (which, by the way, is hurtful. If you love me, you love my loudness). I love to have the last word in an argument. Oh, and I love to argue. I sing whenever I can. In the shower, while drying my hair, in the car, in my office, in the car, at church, on the treadmill, and in the car. I'm not familiar with the term "yes or no answer." If you ask me a question, I will answer you using as many words as possible.

Considering how loud I am, it's probably a good thing I became a teacher. I get to hear myself talk a lot. I have the ability to talk over a room full of chatty little people. In fact, I can yell over a whole playground full of chatty, shouty little people.

I love being loud. God made me this way, and I have been known to use that loud talking and singing to praise Him, and I am happy with who I am. But along with being loud comes being extroverted. I want to be around others, to the point that I quite often try to do too much. I am so blessed to have an amazing group of friends, the kind that no matter what we do together, I know we will have fun.

I have been thinking lately about my relationship with God, and I was thinking that I am in a good place right now. But then I heard a friend give a talk about silence, and listening for the still, small voice of God, and I realized that I don't do that. Sure, I praise God for the big things, and the things that affect my life. I boldly petition for what I want from Him, while recognizing that His plan for my life is the one that should come to fruition. But when do I ever just sit, and think, and most importantly listen? So when I got home that night, I tried it. I turned off the TV, put my phone away, and just sat. It was nice. The "silence session" morphed quickly into me burying my nose in a book until late into the night, but even that was a nice change for me. I live alone, and I have gotten to the point where I feel comfortable with the TV droning on in the background as I read. This weekend I went on a mission trip with some kids from my church, and before bed I took about 20 minutes and just sat. I stared at the ceiling, I thought about things, I might have prayed a little. I can't say that I had any big epiphanies, but honestly I loved just taking time to sit in silence. I felt calm afterward, and at peace.

So, probably during that silent time, I came to the conclusion that I desire more peace in my life. I want to take the time to notice my surroundings, to notice God's presence and to think before speaking and acting. I believe that when you ask God for something, like patience (or peace), he responds by putting you in situations where your patience is tested. When I came to that realization, I decided I was too impatient to pray for patience (ha). So before I tackle that one again, I am praying for peace. A sense of calm. A level head. And I welcome those situations where He will come in and test my sense of peace. I have learned this week to take a few seconds and think before answering a student's question. That makes me feel calmer, especially when the question is wildly off-the-wall. I have learned to pray over small issues throughout my day. That centers me and shifts my focus from myself to God.

I would say that my quest for peace is off to a good, calm start. Here's praying that that continues!