Natural Charis

I google “holiday blues” frantically two days before Thanksgiving, because, well, I have the holiday blues. Antidote: gratitude and anti-perfection. And it works. I remember what I’m thankful for. I hope for a pleasant holiday instead of a great one. Twitter, blogs and magazines are abuzz with people giving thanks. What an awesome trend, people all over the place giving thanks instead of stomping their feet and saying, “I want!” Life’s little things becoming more important than life’s little dramas. Wounds healed, insults forgotten, blessings remembered.

It pales in comparison to my daughter-in-law’s post to her Facebook page.  

If there is anyone in town with no plans today and you would like, you are welcome to come to my house. We have room for more.

Understand, this is a woman with 547 Facebook friends.

And everyone who knows them also knows she means it. If you have no plans, join us. We always have room.

I’m humbled. I like to think I’m generous when it comes to high school fundraisers and Salvation Army. Yet that’s not something that would have occurred to me, especially if my Facebook was packed with people from around the world met at tournaments and school. As much as it wouldn’t occur to me, it was natural to her.

There’s a word, charis, that appears in the Bible’s original text. One of its meanings is giving generously, expecting nothing in return. When I’m deep in prayer, I feel charis, because I know it all belongs to God, anyway. When I’m not in that deep prayer state, I work at cultivating it.

Apparently, I have a long way to go.

But I’m blessed for having people in my life who show me what it’s about along the way.

Love you all, blessings on you all,
Jennie

A path too radical

It's almost too radical to wrap my brain around, but think about it. What if, instead of our steps in life being determined by our goals, the steps were formed by who we are? What if our path was created by following God's laws, instead of where we're going? What if, instead of following modern motivational cues, we followed this: "I pondered the direction of my life, and I turned to follow your laws," (Psalm 119:59, NLT).

It's hard for me to imagine. We're trained to set goals and boldly walk the path toward them. But what if principles control the direction of our life more than goals?

The first time I focused on prinipcles instead of objectives, I felt pointless. I felt blue. So, as much as I'd like to imitate monks who live every second for the moment's simple joy, I needed purpose. I mean, even Jesus had goals, right?

Last week, I started over. I got on the elevator as I prayed, mentally committing to God to take a commandment a day. So, let's see, how would that break out on my calendar? There are, what, seven rules, one for each day? "No, there are ten, thus the phrase Ten Commandments," my inner voice answered. (I don't think it was God. God was busy laughing.) I added two more with the golden rule and "Love God with all your heart."

Yesterday, my Principle for the Day was: Thou shall not steal. Easy enough. But in a book I'm writing, the main character takes antiquities from Israel. He found them, he owns them, right? Not so fast. The Israeli government's law states they own antiquities found on Israel's soil. So is the good guy breaking a commandment? If he is, is he really a good guy?

I have a silver-handled knife in my drawer. I stole it from my mother. Actually, I refused to give it back. She sent it home with a loaf of banana bread. I still remember the way she cocked her head, looking at me like she wondered what was wrong with this child when she asked for it back, and I hedged. It's not that it was beautiful or valuable. She loved it, and she was dying. I wanted that piece of her. I wanted something that reminded me of her every time I looked at it.

It's as if having that knife would take me closer to her when she, you know, passed through.

I already know that not following God's laws pushes me away from God. Those laws aren't there to ensure we're "good people." The laws bring us closer to God. And being close to God makes me want to follow his laws. It's like I have a piece of God inside of me when I follow them.

As crazy as this seems, it's as if I can see another path shooting off from the real world path others see. There's a row of flagstones that no one sees but me, and I feel peaceful here. This moving forward feels more powerful than meeting objectives.

Here's my invitation. Take this walk for a year, a quarter or six weeks. Every day, focus on one principle, whether the Ten Commandments or the Eight-Fold Path. Post your thoughts along the journey. I'd love for us to share what we're learning, and more, what we're feeling.

Blessings,
Jennie