Soaked

A while back I watched a concert dvd. (It was so good that I continue to watch bits of it from time to time . . .) Before one song in particular the musician tells a story about a trip he'd taken to Africa. The story itself isn't that important but the bit that I want to hijack is how he contrasted himself with the Africans he got to spend some time with.

He had a hard time with the heat - - and described himself as a "water soaked" person (from North America), sweating profusely and having to carry all kinds of bottled water with him. Meanwhile the Africans . . . were just fine.

"Soaked."

This word stays with me because that's what I am. I'm not rich by any stretch, but not only am I water soaked - I'm pretty much just soaked in general when it comes to food, clothing, shelter, and . . . stuff. One way to kind of encapsulate it is: "resource soaked."

On the one hand, I consider myself very fortunate, very blessed with what I do have. By a lot of standards, I could be described as wealthy, prosperous. Not only with how my basic needs are met, but with the opportunities I have to learn, and grow, and develop my talents, abilities, strengths. I like the quote Michelle has at the top of her blog: "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left and could say, I used everything you gave me." I am resourced up the ying-yang to be able to develop and use what I've been given in order to be a blessing to others, and do what God has for me to do.

On the other hand . . .

It seems like being resource soaked can be a bit of a tricky mixed blessing. For example: so much am I resource soaked, that often I fail to get to application. To actually gathering the resources together to produce something worthwhile. I leave off with just the stuff and forget to get to the "do" and "give." Or I get tricked into thinking I can only do certain things, if I have a certain something. And when I get certain somethings, appetites aren't satisfied, they are enlarged - - - the more stuff, the better!

Being materialistic is a slippery slope - - the slippery part is letting myself off too easily thinking that I'm not.

But here's a bit of antidote: stuff is work. As much as things are desirable . . . the more I've got, the more I end up serving what I got - maintaining it, storing it, washing it, keeping it organized. Working harder and longer so we can get more stuff actually makes us work even harder and longer. Cause we end up working . . . for the stuff that we worked to get.

That's probably enough preachy talky moralizing . . . but if you're up for some more . . .

A couple years back I went to a conference for church leaders. Talk about a resource soaked weekend - all kinds of seminars packed with content, all kinds of free stuff given out. On top of that I bought and brought back all manner of books, some of which I still haven't read.

Cutting to the chase: the diagnosis is not delicious. The picture that now and then I see is maybe better described as some new trinitarian doctrine: Father, Son, and Resources. Father, Son, and Funding. Father, Son, & My Strategy. Father, Son, & These Hot New Techniques.

Eh?

So then I think about some of my favourite sentences, Acts 3:1-10:

One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the time of prayer—at three in the afternoon. Now a man crippled from birth was being carried to the temple gate called Beautiful, where he was put every day to beg from those going into the temple courts. When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he asked them for money. Peter looked straight at him, as did John. Then Peter said, "Look at us!" 5So the man gave them his attention, expecting to get something from them.

Then Peter said, "Silver or gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk." Taking him by the right hand, he helped him up, and instantly the man's feet and ankles became strong.

He jumped to his feet and began to walk. Then he went with them into the temple courts, walking and jumping, and praising God. When all the people saw him walking and praising God, they recognized him as the same man who used to sit begging at the temple gate called Beautiful, and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.


It would be a bad interpretation to say that the main point here is that the measure of Peter's poverty was in any way proportionate or correlative with the healing power of God that flowed through him. (Another bad interpretation would be: these sorts of things don't happen any more . . . they were just for Petey, Jonny, and the rest of the boys.)

So this isn't exegesis, it's just a question. And here it is: what and how much would I give up to have God heal people through me like that on a regular basis? And not just for the sake of the sensational, but so that peoples eyes could be opened up to His reality?

If it worked that way, what and how much would I give up for God to speak through me, act through me, heal, proclaim, give . . . moment to moment, each day? Do I really value life the way Jesus lived it? If I really can live like and experience the things that can happen by God's power like Jesus and the disciples, (and I believe I can) what's keeping me from getting there?

Maybe it is some "stuff" after all.


Why do I turn so quickly to stuff that can help me do it, when the One who gave me the job in the first place just wants to do it through me?

". . . but what I have I give you . . ."