It’s Time to Stop Comparing and Start Rejoicing

I am, by nature, a do-er, but one of my favorite, long-time friends can “squander” an entire afternoon over tea and conversation without batting a remorseful eyelash. When we were both in the trenches of parenting toddlers, we twirled long phone cords, and I heard her sleep-deprived voice say, “Sometimes I just sit on the couch and watch the kids play.”

Really?

Thunderstruck, I’m sure I must have added “Sit on couch. Watch kids play.” to my list for the next day, but I will never naturally live in the moment like that dear friend does.

Then, there’s my friend with the beautifully decorated and perpetually spotless house. I dearly love her and her glistening floors, but I am, by nature, oblivious. Once I have walked by a sock beside the coffee table three times, it magically disappears. From her, I am learning the joy of grabbing the sock on the first pass and using it to swipe dust off the piano on my way to the laundry room.

And yes, there are also giraffes, and platypuses, and the wild hyenas of the Serengeti, but I ask you, ladies and gentlemen:  Is there anything in all of God’s glorious creation that demonstrates His creativity and imagination more outrageously than human personality? God delights in our humanity, and He invites us to delight in His God-ness.

Rejoice in the Many Expressions of Orthodoxy

Why, then, are we so reluctant to celebrate the richness of orthodoxy in all its many expressions? Maybe your church (like ours) enjoys the musical gifts of both Charles Wesley AND the Gettys on a Sunday morning–or maybe you lift your voices together to psalms sung in unison. In Chapter 8 of Orthodoxy, G.K. Chesterton shouts “Vive la Différence!”. . . as well could be expected from a posh British intellectual:

“All modern philosophies are chains which connect and fetter; Christianity is a sword which separates and sets free. No other philosophy makes God actually rejoice in the separation of the universe into living souls.” (198)

This is an invitation to rejoice in the rich diversity of “living souls” that abound even within the walls of our own homes, which sure beats complaining about the ways in which our differences irritate and provoke.

Rejoice in the Sacred Separation

Chesterton goes on to exult in the sacred separation between God and humanity:

“That a man may love God it is necessary that there should be not only a God to be loved, but a man to love him. All those vague theosophical minds for whom the universe is an immense melting-pot are exactly the minds which shrink instinctively from that earthquake saying of our Gospels, which declare the the Son of God came not with peace but with a sundering sword.”  (198)

Jen Wilkin puts it this way in None Like Him:

“Human beings created to bear the image of God instead aspire to become like God. Designed to reflect His glory, we choose instead to rival it. We do so by reaching for those attributes that are true only of God, those suited only to a limitless being. Rather than worship and trust in the omniscience of God, we desire to be all-knowing ourselves. . . Like our father Adam and our mother Eve, we long for that which is intended only for God.”

Even with our smart phones, we are not omnipresent or omniscient. Even with our long days and our overloaded calendars, we are not infinite. Pining for that which has not been given, either in our comparison to God or to one another, is the surest path to ingratitude, discontent, envy–or worse.

Rejoice in the Process of Sanctification

God has graciously invited his much-loved children into the process of sanctification whereby we find ourselves living our way into attributes of God that not only make us more like Him, but also draw us closer to our families, friends, and all those who need our holiness, our faithfulness, and our patience in order to see what God is like.

May we find grace to celebrate humanity, mothering, wife-ing, AND orthodoxy in all their expressions and resist the urge to shoe-horn one another into ill-fitting identities that fall short of expressing all the manifold glory of God, utterly separate and other, and yet closer to us than our next breath.


As usual, your insights on Chesterton’s writing are welcome in the comments below, and if you are also inspired to create your own blog post, be sure to share the link with us so we can continue the conversation over at your place.

This post is part eight in a meandering journey through Orthodoxy by G.K. Chesterton. If you’re just joining us, you can start here for the rationale behind this project. The journey through Orthodoxy has taken us into topics as diverse as parenting, the irony of free will, the humility of being right, and the miracle of God’s creative genius. In May, we examined Chesterton’s thoughts on patriotism just in time for Memorial Day, and in June we marveled at the “furious opposites” inherent in orthodoxy. Next month, Lord willing, we’ll conclude the series with a discussion of Chapter 9!

Joining you in resisting “the huge syntheses of humbug” (203) and leaning into the glorious freedom of truth,

michele signature rose[1]

Just one more thing:  If, like me, Orthodoxy is one of those books you’ve “always meant to read,” you’ll be glad to know that it’s available in a Kindle edition at a very low price. Amazon prices do fluctuate, but the last time I checked it was under a dollar!

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Diversity and the Church: A Culture with No Excuse

I started listening to NPR a number of years ago because I felt a need to hear a different voice, to listen well, and to give consideration to viewpoints that I did not share. Since then, as the tone of challenging conversations around race and politics has become more shrill, and as opinions have become more ironclad, I’ve been thankful for quiet voices of reason that remind me of the holiness of diversity and the call to love.

Deep divides within the church on everything from immigration and the role of women to worship style and the definition of family challenge the body of Christ to be the force that passes through our differences all the way to grace. In the month of February, The Redbud Post is focusing on diversity as a spiritual issue with a collection of writings from Redbud members that challenge readers to practice the “love that suffers long and is kind” in living out our many roles as believers. A studied intention to live as an Ambassador of Unity invites me to trade my litmus tests for conversations with real people and to seek out opportunities within the body of Christ to remember that we are one.

I invite you to join me today over at The Redbud Post to read my essay in its entirety.   Over the past year I have intentionally read books to broaden my own narrow world, and I’ve folded two of them into the post. And while you’re there, take some time to look around and even subscribe to the post so you can receive regular infusions of goodness to your inbox each month.


If you enjoy reading Living Our Days, subscribe to get regular Bible studies and book reviews delivered to your inbox.  Just enter your e-mail address in the field at the top of this page.

I link-up with a number of blogging  communities on a regular basis.  They are listed in the left sidebar by day of the week.  I hope that you will take a moment to enjoy reading the work of some of these fine writers and thinkers.

My Piece of the Elephant

Long ago and far away there were six men, wise indeed, but, alas, they were all without sight.  An opinionated lot, every one, in the course of their wanderings, they happened to meet an elephant, standing squarely in the center of their path.

Feeling duty-bound to report on his discovery, the first wise man gripped one of the massive beast’s sharp tusks and declared, “It is stunning how much an elephant resembles a spear.”

The second wise man, equally confident, reached out until his hands connected with one large and floppy ear.  “Nay,” he retorted, “you are mistaken, for ‘tis clear to me that elephantine nature is like that of a fan.  Already I feel the cooling of air around me as this fine elephant sweeps back and forth.”

The third wise man could no longer hold his peace, for he had meandered off to the rear and found the elephant’s tail.  “Neither a spear nor a fan, my brothers, could take this shape or form.  Obviously, an elephant is like a rope.”

And so the story proceeds with one sightless hypothesis revolving around the muscular snake-like trunk, another enthusiastic theory about its tree-trunk legs, and a final proclamation that the body mass was surely a broad and impassable wall.

Each was partially right, but all were in the wrong. 

Underneath this ancient story’s observation about human nature lies a chilling truth about the perils of logic on this broken ground. To save time and energy in its quest for certainty, the brain will hide its own biases from itself. All the while believing in the thoroughness of our research, we immerse ourselves in evidence that does nothing but confirm our preconceptions.

A minute’s thought will reveal the six wise men had all they needed to correct their narrow perspective:  the observations of the other five.  A move to the right or to the left, a hand extended to a broader reach, or a question posed to a nearby brother:

“What do you mean, it feels like a rope?  Here, put your hand on THIS and see what you think!”

Any of these would have changed the whole story.

Research indicates diverse groups have the ability to reveal hidden biases. What this looks like here on the ground is that if I share my piece of the elephant, while also listening to my sister’s thoughts on elephant morphology, we both get a more accurate view of the beast in question.

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This month, we’re sharing our thoughts on The Elephant in the Room over at SheLoves Magazine. I’m thankful for the people in my life who rescue me from the blindness of a singular seeing — who keep me from reenacting the elephant story in my own time.  I would love it if you clicked on over to SheLoves to finish reading the rest of my post.  And I hope that while you’re there you’ll share your thoughts, because we do need each other’s voices.

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Beginning September 7th, I’ll be hosting a discussion group focused on Wendell Berry’s  Jayber Crow.  His story spans much of 20th century American history and demonstrates the poignancy of this quote from his musings:

“Telling a story is like reaching into a granary full of wheat and drawing out a handful.  There is always more to tell than can be told.”

 

If you enjoy reading Living Our Days, subscribe to get regular Bible studies and book reviews delivered to your inbox.  Just enter your e-mail address in the field at the top of this page.

I link-up with a number of blogging  communities on a regular basis.  They are listed in the left sidebar by day of the week.  I hope that you will take a moment to enjoy reading the work of some of these fine writers and thinkers.