Tension... Peace... Joy — Another Lesson from My Garbage

For the second time in as many weeks, my garbage has caused me reflection that led to gratitude. (See my blog post 2011AUG17 for the first one.) Why this is, I do not know. I won't start to worry about my sanity just yet.

Late last night, after finishing the bedtime routine with my oldest child, I was dragging my tired self to bed when I realized I hadn't taken out the garbage or the recyclables. <heavy sigh> I trudged toward the front of the house to do my job simply because it was the job I had agreed to do. I looked out the front door. Lo and behold, there were the recycle bins and the trash can out at the curb ready for the next day's pickup!

It turns out my wife had put them out in the afternoon while she was watching our 3-year-old son zooming up and down the sidewalk on his scooter. It was a little thing, I suppose. She was out there anyway. But to me it was a major gift. 

This caused me to remember a conversation I had with a friend of mine regarding his kitchen garbage and his spouse. He and his wife learned a lesson about their relationship after fighting for years about taking out the garbage. Here's the story:

In their house, taking out the garbage was not a job given to any particular person. Their idea was that everyone should simply act as a responsible member of the household. If the kitchen trash can was full, whoever put the last piece of garbage in ought to empty the garbage (just like the person who uses the last toilet paper on the roll ought to replace it with a fresh roll).

Perhaps you have already spotted the problem with this arrangement. Unlike the toilet paper roll which has a definite ending point, the idea of when the garbage can is full is a) open to interpretation and b) somewhat flexible based on how hard you are willing to push down on the garbage. The end result was that everyone in the house would cram their last piece of garbage into the can without emptying it. You can imagine the scene, I'm sure.

This led to accusations that, while sometimes reasonable, were hard to prove. When is a trash can really full? The end result was that the garbage was an ongoing source of conflict with no possible resolution within their current way of doing things..

They found their answer in choosing a new strategy instead of arguing more forcefully. The answer was simple. In the end, it didn't even change who took out the garbage all that much. But it brought peace to the household. Occasionally, it even brought joy.

The solution was this: they decided together that taking out the garbage would be the husband's responsibility. Here is how this solution brought peace — and even joy — to their household.

First, the peace came from clearly marked lines of responsibility. There was no weaseling around. It was his job, and if it wasn't done, there was no arguing about who should have done it. Voila! Most of the reason for the tension over the kitchen garbage vanished in a puff of new paradigm. The husband didn't even mind, because at least things were clear and simple. The temptation to cram garbage was gone because it didn't serve any purpose. It was also easier for him to do the job when he was tired because he knew it was his job and no one else's. It's amazing what a clearly defined job can do to a person's day.

But wait, there's more!

Joy unexpectedly was discovered as part of this clarified delineation of responsibilities. Sometimes the wife took out the garbage. In the long run, it was probably nearly as often as she used to. But now, because of the new way of looking at things, every time she took out the garbage it was a gift! The husband became the frequent recipient of a gift given in love, and the wife became the frequent giver of gifts to the husband with whom she was sharing her life.

Imagine! In deciding whose responsibility the garbage would be instead of simply arguing about it each time it started to overflow, this couple discovered three important truths about deciding who would be responsible for an unpleasant task. First, knowing it was his job allowed the husband to rustle up the strength to take out the garbage even when he was tired. Second, the husband could feel good instead of put upon when he took out the garbage because it was his responsibility. And the surprising third is that the new structure around kitchen garbage duty provided a whole new way for gifts to be given and received within their relationship.

I thought about my friends as I stared through tired eyes at the garbage can and recycle bins out at the curb under the streetlights. In the morning I made sure to thank my wife and tell her how much her little gift of taking out the garbage had meant to me.

Garbage and Gratitude

Last Tuesday night my wife asked me to take out the recyclables. This was actually quite gracious because taking out the recyclables already is my job. She could have just reminded me to do it instead of asking me to do it.

The thing is, taking out the recyclables is one of my least favorite jobs. The reason? They stink. Though we rinse things before they get put in the bin, we are not of the type to run the recyclables through the dishwasher before we put them out to be melted down or whatever they do to them. So it is an unpleasant job.

Why am I writing about an unpleasant job, you ask. Because I found joy in it, and I thought that was worth sharing. My sense of gratitude grew as I took out the recyclables, and gratitude is good for all of us.

In order to take the recyclables out, I had to take them out of somewhere. In my case, I have a house that is quite comfortable, reasonably furnished, has heating and air conditioning, includes the fabulous luxury of indoor plumbing, and more. So though I don't enjoy taking the recyclables out, I am mighty glad to have some place to take them out from.

Much of what smells disgusting after sitting in the recyclables bin for several days smelled and tasted delicious a few days ago. In taking out the used food containers, I was reminded that I have consumed the food that came in the containers. I have food, which is a wonderful blessing. Some of the things that stank, did so because we don't refrigerate our recyclables. The perishable stuff spoils — which reminded me of how wonderful it is to have a refrigerator to keep fresh food fresh longer. What a blessing!

Then I thought of my family, which had consumed the food that came in the now-stinking recyclable containers. I have a wife and children that also have food — food that we share as we sit around the table and generally quite enjoy each other.

As I reached the curb, I also thought about the luxury of having someone else drive by in a truck to pick up my garbage. How wonderful is that?

I probably won't ever really look forward to taking out the recyclables, but I have found that thinking about what brought that stinking bin full of used containers into existence has given me a great opportunity to let gratitude overtake me in the middle of an unpleasant task. Thankfulness feels good.

In the interest of full disclosure, I'm also thankful that I have to take out the recyclables only once per week.

Learning to Pray from a Foreign Woman

Last Sunday's Bible text and message (August 14, 2011) covered a very perplexing incident wherein Jesus first ignores someone who wants help and then tries to brush her off. The woman succeeds in persuading Jesus to do what she asks (free her daughter from a demon) and, in doing so, joins a long list of major Bible characters who were willing to push — even argue with — God. Some find it difficult to come to grips with Jesus' trying to ignore and brush off someone who needs help. But the woman teaches us a great lesson about prayer. Prayer is not a flaccid, wet-fish, passive encounter with God. You are a person with a will and a mind — as God created you to be! Kids don't just passively accept whatever their parents say (as much as parents might wish that sometimes!). As children grow, parents expect children to engage them and sometimes push back. Most parents would worry if their child quietly and passively followed every instruction without feedback.

Jesus' prayer in the Garden of Gethsemane is a model. He engages the Father, asking for anything other than what's about to be done to him. Then he concludes his prayer with, "Not my will but yours be done." We must be careful, however, because "Thy will be done" can come from either end of the faith spectrum. "Thy will be done" can be a statement of courageous and confident trust in our loving God. Or "Thy will be done" can be the prayer equivalent of the teenagers, "Whatever. God's going to do what God's going to do and I don't really see the point of praying."

The central lesson from Jesus' encounter is one we learn over and over in the scriptures. God is not an immovable wall of will any more than an earthly parent is. God is a compassionate Father who hears our prayers, is moved by our desires, and can even be won over.

Do you want peace in your heart? Learn to pray with vigor. Engage God in prayer over the desires of your heart. Psalm 37:4 proclaims, "Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart." The twist on this verse, however, is that probably more often than not, it is the desires of our hearts that change rather than God's simply giving us what we want. Either way, in the end, God promises peace that passes all understanding.

An essential part of this process that brings peace to your spirit is engaging God with your true self. Of course you want to praise God for who He is when you pray. Of course you want to pray in the spirit of "Thy will be done." But that doesn't mean you turn into an invertebrate — a spiritual slug without desire or will. This foreign woman teaches us to pray: engage God!

Why did Jesus rise up into the clouds?

Hey! I figured out (to my satisfaction) why Jesus ascended into the clouds. (Did I tell you this already?)

It was out of love for his disciples! (surprise!)

Jesus had already demonstrated that he could simply be wherever he wanted to be, so he could have simply gone to be with the Father. And we know that heaven isn't physically above the cloud canopy (we've been there). So what's with the levitation party trick? The answer is that the disciples needed a transitional moment. Jesus had appeared to them several times and now he needed to make it clear to them that this was different. They should not be waiting around for him to appear physically again. They didn't need an explanation of the universe, they simply needed to understand that he wouldn't physically appear to them again. So he did a little transitional thing that helped them understand within their perception of reality that he was 'leaving' for the time being. So, he physically moved his body toward where their idea of heaven was.

Which, of course, really shows us how loving Jesus is. He is willing to do something that is, in a way, kind of silly. But, this is what his disciples need. Just like parents sometimes do things they don't need to do just for the comfort of their children. If Jesus' pride had been operative, he would have said, "I'm not going to do this stupid little thing. I don't NEED to, and besides, it's only serving their ignorance." But he didn't. He humbled himself to create the transitional moment that they needed within their level of understanding.

Man, Jesus was cool!

Luke 6:46-49 reading and reflection

Consider, with Pastor John, Jesus' parable about the man who built his house upon the rock.

Luke 6:43-45 reading and reflection

Reflect with Pastor John on the implications of Jesus' words, "By their fruit you will know them."

Contemplating Ash Wednesday

Today begins the season of Lent. The truth at the base of the universe is love. The core characteristic of the Christian is love. God is love. But love is not always easy or fun. True love runs deep through the currents of life, on the murky bottom as well as the glistening surface. True love flows through the brokenness and pain as well as the victorious and pleasurable. Committed love calls forth not only the highest joys, but also the deepest sacrifice. While true love may run joyfully to the mountaintop, true love also walks open-eyed and purposefully into the valley. True love runs truest in the steady steps of the one who walks knowingly into the dark places for the sake of others, in the decisions of the one who contemplates pain and loss, and willfully embraces it for the sake of another.

Lent is the season wherein we contemplate the darker places where love flows. Lent is a season of unpleasant truth, of spiritual surgery. The valley. The murky bottom of our souls. Sin. Brokenness.

• Lust: the desire to use people or things for our pleasure in ungodly ways
• Gluttony: consumption without stewardship of ourselves or others
• Greed: the desire to have wealth, status, power
• Sloth: laziness or indifference
• Rage: hatred or anger that leads us to hurt ourselves or others
• Envy: desiring that which is anothers
• Pride: the exalting of one’s self.

The Lenten journey is a journey into darkness but it is not a journey alone. The most amazing and unexpected thing awaits us in this journey: Jesus. As we look down into the sinful places, the broken places of our lives, the places where we ourselves fear to look, let alone let anyone else into, we see someone there. We are not alone. We see Jesus.

God made him who had no sin to be sin for us… [2 Corinthians 5:21 (NIV)]

We look down into the grime and muck in our hidden places and see that God—our glorious, wonderful, perfect creator God—has, in Jesus Christ, voluntarily walked into both the darkness of the world and the personal, individual darkness of humanity.

“…He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows…” [Isaiah 53:4 (ESV)]

And the full truth is yet more horrible and wonderful: Jesus died.

Pain is one thing, death is another. Pain comes and goes. Death just comes. The scriptures tell us that death is the result of sin. “The wages of sin is death.” Some people even get away without paying taxes, but nobody outruns death. “You are dust and to dust you shall return,” God told Adam and Eve after they had sinned in the Garden of Eden. That is the truth. “You are dust and to dust you shall return.”

And the horrible, wonderful truth is that God, in Jesus Christ, became dust. God became dust and went through mortality. Oh, the scandalous sacrifices that love draws out of those who are willing to love—the unfathomable forfeiture of Jesus Christ who, “though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped (or clung to), but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even deathon a cross.” [Philippians 2:6–8 (RSV)]

And the strangest thing… it is by going into the murk that we become clean.

For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. [2 Corinthians 5:21 (RSV)]

By staring into the darkness, we find that light invades our deepest places.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it… The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world… to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God. And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. [John 1:5–14 (ESV)]

God is full of grace and truth.

Grace without truth would leave us wondering if we are really acceptable, because grace without truth would leave the hidden places hidden. We are left wondering about God’s love for use because we are left wondering if we are truly known.

Truth without grace might seem satisfactory on first glance, but truth without grace in the presence of the holiness of God would crush us utterly. To simply shine light into the cobwebby corners of our soul without hearing “I love you” would reduce us to ashes.

But Lent isn’t just about getting to the last dark and dusty corner of our soul. Who can even plumb the depths of their own thoughts, words and actions?

Lent is acknowledging our need, even the darkness we cannot or won’t see, knowing that the grace and love of God in Christ Jesus covers all our sin. When we do get into the dusty corners or the murky bottom, we may be surprised, but God never is. It is God’s all-probing love in Jesus Christ that gives us courage this Lent to be contemplative, to consider deeply the fullness of both the beauty and the brokenness in our souls, because God has looked into our souls, seen our need, sent a Savior, and now cries out in an ever louder chorus, “I love you, my child, I love you. Don’t hide from your brokenness. Search it with me at your side. Discover it with me at your side. Find healing with me at your side. And even discover, in my wild universe, how I can bring blessing out of it.”

Lent is the time to let the profound “I love you” of God illuminate the darkness so that you and I can grow in grace and truth and peace.