A Interesting Perspective on Retirement

An interesting perspective on retirement was shared with me recently. A good friend when faced with a diagnosis of cancer found that he was sad and angry that he would not be able to enjoy his well-deserved retirement. After all, he had put in many years and much commitment into his career as a Family Practice physician. Wasn’t his retirement supposed to be his reward?

As he sought to chastise God for this disappointment, he said God had a different word for him. God told him that he had been given gifts to be used for God’s purposes, and that God would let him know when he would no longer need to use those gifts, and it had nothing to do with retirement.  My friend seemed to find peace in this new perspective. He knew that he would not necessarily work forever, but that his God-given gifts were not just for use in his career. They were to be used in God’s service. It was not a work for later rewards, but a use of his gifts for Christ’s kingdom.

We get so caught up in the world’s ways of looking at quid pro quo and rewards that we forget our God has a different economy. What would it be like for us to look at the gifts we have been given in such a totally fresh way? How much more pleasure could we find in serving in God’s kingdom in this way? How can we look at what we do as a way of using our gifts of healing and service rather than earning a reward or just a living?

Letters

Letters can be either a quaint relic of past times or a vivid glimpse into someone’s life. The Sisters in Spirit just finished reading and discussing a recent book The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. As Marybeth told us, it’s an epistalotory novel—one that’s written entirely in the form of letters. It’s a delightful read that gives a glimpse into life on a Channel Island occupied by the Germans during WWII, and shortly thereafter.

Part of the discussion was about letters and how much they have meant in our lives. Some have saved letters sent to them when they were younger. Others have letters exchanged between their parents or grandparents.

Personally, I found that when I used to write letters I tended to put a whole lot more of my inner thoughts into them than I intended. It was actually a bit unnerving to me because I felt so much more vulnerable. Even my family Christmas letters tend to be on the introspective side, so Jeff often has to edit them a bit.

Paul, who wrote letters to instruct, encourage and reprimand, told the Corinthians that they were his letters to the world. If I am a letter written by Christ, not with ink but with God’s living Spirit, then what message do I give to those I meet? Do I really give a glimpse of how God is working within me? Does the essence of my life convey God’s grace and mercy? Is God’s justice evident in the lines of my life? What will my children know about God by how they can read my life? It makes me pause and consider.  What about you?

Sit with me

I’m tired this week. It’s been a tough go. I find that when I’m tired I can say things I don’t mean, or less nicely than I mean. So I invite you to sit with me as I ponder my favorite psalm. Thanks to Fr Roland Murphy, the towering Carmelite, for whose class I had to do a Psalm journal, lo these many years ago. It was a gift then. It is a gift now.

Psalm 131

O Lord, my heart is not lifted up,


   my eyes are not raised too high;


I do not occupy myself with things


   too great and too marvelous for me.

 But I have calmed and quieted my soul,


   like a weaned child at its mother’s breast.

Like a weaned child,


O Israel, hope in the Lord


   from this time on and for evermore.

(NRSV with a Murphy slant)

God Willing and the Creek Don't Rise

Years ago a woman I knew had a standard response about any upcoming event: she’d be there, “God willing and the creek don’t rise.” While there was a bit of humor in her response, she really meant it. Back then I confess that it sounded on the pessimistic side to me.

I’ve had a few more experiences since then and now know that often the creek does rise, in a manner of speaking. I am far more aware of the very real possibility that my plans can go awry in any number of ways. I put an event on my calendar with the full intention of honoring it, and growing up in my family, that means that it will be honored if at all possible. There are times, however, that subsequent events come up and my calendar intentions get shot to pieces. Sometimes those unexpected disruptions come because of my boys, sometimes my husband, sometimes my work, and sometimes other circumstances.

Keeping in mind that one of my guiding principles is that “their lack of planning does not become my emergency,” there are times that there is a genuine emergency or a necessary interruption. Another guiding principle I’m working on is my level of reactivity. While I may feel like jumping down the throat of who- or whatever has disrupted my plans, I find it often to be a chance to take a deep breath and reflect on where God’s grace is evident, or on how I might be an evidence of God’s grace in this instance. I cannot foresee how God may well use this situation to bring about good.

So God willing and the creek don’t rise, I’ll be there to do what I said I’d do, but if the creek does rise then may I have the grace to wait for the good that God will bring about.

Romans 8:26, 28

Meanwhile, the moment we get tired in the waiting, God's Spirit is right alongside helping us along… That's why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good. [The Message]

Losing One's Life

We just finished our annual Groundhog Day tradition—watching the 1993 movie Groundhog Day. The arrogant, self-centered prig Phil Connors endures a purgatory of seemingly endless repeats of the same day. Through his ordeal, he enters further into self-centeredness, at one point calling himself “a god, not THE GOD, but a god,” because he knows what is going to happen before it happens since he has seen it so many times before. He descends into a morass of suicides because he can’t take it anymore, but every morning he awakes to the 6 a.m. alarm on February 2^nd. The beauty of poetry and music begin speaking to him. He begins using his time to see what others might need, rather than filling his own desires. Finally, one February 2^nd comes when he is able to say, “I don't deserve someone like you. But If I ever could, I swear I would love you for the rest of my life…. Whatever happens tomorrow, or for the rest of my life, I'm happy now... because I love you.”

For all the times that Phil tried to take his life out of despair, it didn’t make a difference because he was not really “losing his life.” His focus was still completely on himself. When he comes to the point of being able to be completely in the moment, giving up any thoughts of trying to manipulate his way, of working things to his own advantage, he loses himself, and his new life begins.

In some ways, I understand Jesus’ words that if we want to save our life then we have to lose it, but I almost always stumble over those very words at a burial, especially when those gathered are minimally Christian at best. Even Christians find those words difficult. Aren’t we supposed to love life? Why should we hate it? Why should we lose it? This time in watching Groundhog Day I saw Jesus’ words come to life in a new way. While Phil is a caricature of self-centeredness, in some ways he represents me. Whenever I seek my own advantage, my own pleasure to the point of centering on myself, then I forfeit my life. I may not die, but I will not have fullness of life. That comes when I am able to surrender my self-centeredness and seek to serve as Jesus served.

Mark 8:35-37 For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?