Calling it even

"Come Friday, we're even," the man said. "That's how I look at my job."

The man had worked for years and years at his job, and though the hours were often long and the pay was not so good, he said he picked up his pay check each Friday and considered his account even.

Square.
Paid in Full.

No matter how difficult the task may have been each week, in his mind, the check he received at the end of the week covered the debt. Each week, he marked the account paid in full and moved on.

Do you?
Or, do you, like me at times, look at your compensation for a job well done and complain that it isn't enough, complain that you aren't appreciated more, complain that the task was more than expected, complain that the glory doesn't equal the effort?

To make matters worse, each week we keep carrying that balance forward, adding a little more to the "what's owed us" column.

We will never be paid what we think we're worth. We can never be appreciated to the extent we think we should. Friends will never be as loving as we think they should. Traffic will never go as fast as we think it needs to.

Peace of mind can only come when we change what we think . . . 
. . . when we get to the end of the week and mark it even.
. . . when we get to the end of the day and balance the books with our friends and family.
. . . when we realize that give and take sometimes means giving more and taking less.

And when you're okay with that, you're finally okay with everything.

photo credit: Jenny Mae Bingman - Puerto Rican Parade, Chicago 2009 during American Idol Auditions

Waiting for bad

This morning's unexpected snow reminded me of one anticipated snowstorm years ago which never came. The salt truck was parked at the rest area between Carmi and Crossville waiting ... just waiting ... waiting for bad weather which never came.

Some of us live our lives just like that, waiting for bad stuff which never comes. We worry that we could become ill; we could lose our job; we could lose our marriage.

We could, we could, we could.

But maybe, we won't. Maybe it just won't snow that day, but like the man in the salt truck, we are so focused on waiting for the bad, we fail to see the beauty happening all around us. That day turned out to be a lovely day. Every day is a lovely day for those who have learned to give worry no more time than it deserves.

I have found comfort lately trusting in "the plan." Life is tough, tougher than I can figure out at times. It's in those times, I've learned, to quit trying to steer the boat. Sometimes you are just supposed to enjoy the ride and leave the details to the One who knows the plan, the One who designed the plan.

When life just doesn't make sense, quit trying to make it have sense.

Trust that when the pieces are all fit together, a beautiful picture will emerge.

One of my favorite books is When God Winks by Squire Rushnell. I encourage you to read it. I quote from it: "Our view of life is limited. We go from day to day, looking at one puzzle piece at a time. But there is another perspective. While we are trying to make sense out of one odd-looking piece after another, we can take comfort knowing that all of the pieces do fit into a plan that could only have been created by a higher power. Only when we near the finish and begin to attain a more global perspective does the whole composition have clarity."

Photo credit: Judy Mae Bingman

If you never came back home

My sister left her house in early August 2008. She never came home.
What we had hoped would be a short hospital stay turned into a three-month journey from which she didn't return.

After her death, we went to the house to gather things for the funeral and there, at her piano, right where she had left it, was her church hymnal opened to the song "Victory in Jesus."

I played that song this morning at worship services at Wabash Christian Retirement Center, and I couldn't help but think what people would find in my life if this day I didn't return home.
What would be open on my piano?

"Victory in Jesus" was a statement of how Brenda lived her life. She was confident of her eternal home, impatient with those who courted anything except a righteous lifestyle, and faithful in her service to others in need.

What would my statement be?

My little sister and I have an agreement that if anything happens to either one of us, the other will go to her house to "clean up" things before anyone finds the less-than-desirable elements of our life we keep hidden from the rest of the world.

Perhaps it's time, though, for each of us to begin living our life as if we weren't coming home; as if what we said that day would be the last thing people remembered of us.

What song will you be singing when you sing the last time?

It comes down to faith

No doubt there will be much debate over the movie "The Book of Eli." For my family, it inspired many questions about just what we believe and how we respond to those who believe differently.

The star of the movie is Eli (ya think short for Elijah?) who has spent the past 30 winters (after war destroyed most of the world) listening to a voice guide him . . . guide him first to the last remaining Bible in the world, then guide him "west" where The Book would be safe and used for good by the good. His biggest challenge comes from a  man who wants to use the knowledge of The Book for personal gain and power (like that hasn't happened before).

There are great moments in this movie. Some will go unnoticed by the unknowing.

• When asked if The Book would save the world, Eli stated some believed The Book is what caused the final war.
• Early in the movie, Eli stayed hidden while a person is attacked and killed. "Stay on the path; this doesn't concern you," he mumbled to himself. Later, he confessed his mistake and admitted he got so wound up protecting The Book, he forgot to live by what The Book taught: "to care for others more than ourselves." How often could we say that of ourselves?
• I won't spoil the movie for you, but it was touching to see at the end a copy of the Bible placed in the last remaining library between a copy of the Torah and a copy of the Quran.

Throughout the movie, Eli performs amazing feats of physical strength which become even more unbelievable with the revelation at the end of the movie. "How could he . . . " we heard from movie-goers as they left the theater. It is the same thing repeated by unbelievers --"How could God . . ."

Faith. The movie comes down to faith, just like your personal beliefs come down to faith, and that's why some people just won't "get" this movie. One reviewer stated the movie "stretches believability," but isn't that what faith must do? Faith is one step past what we see and what we know.

How do we know? We don't. We simply have faith.
"Show me proof," some may demand, but we have none. We believe in a God who wants us to believe in Him without promise of proof. On the ride home, Jenny said she once explained it to a friend: "If there were proof, everyone would believe."

Faith is not knowing; it's simply believing and that's a tough story for some to accept. Do I know there is a heaven? No, but in faith I believe it to be true. Do I know there is a God? No, but in faith I believe Him to be true.

I don't have all the answers, and thus, some of what I believe may be wrong. I'll take that chance and, like Eli, let my faith carry me through the journey.

Photo credit: Wil Bingman, The National Cathedral