Spent

I have a confession to make. I have been spending money as part of my grieving process. I have not really been in touch too much with how my grief is affecting me, I just know it's there. My husband had a big epiphany concerning his, followed by a total release from some significant baggage, and more power to him. Me, I just find myself crying occasionally and saying, oh, I bet grief has something to do with this.

And I'm spending.

That's probably not an uncommon outlet for grief. And I don't spend wildly and extravagantly. I also don't really spend all that much on myself, although there probably is some of that. I just keep coming up with things that it seems good for someone to have, and I go ahead and do it. Especially the kids.  And especially my daughter.

I get excited over something that the boys would like and I add it to their Christmas list.  I see something I know that my little girl will love when she's older, because I loved (or would have) the same thing, so I set it aside for her. I decide the boys would love these science and math videos from Sonlight, so I get them. They do, by the way. And I packaged it in such a way that it feels to Parker like it's part of his new reading program that I got him, to inspire him towards scholarly success, so you see these purchases are so entirely reasonable and justifiable.

I splash gifts around to other people like money doesn't mean anything, like we're not in a recession. Hey, these people have an emotional need, if not always a physical one, and I'm filling it. I sometimes spend with her in mind: my mother would have wanted you to have this, I'll buy it out of her (theoretical and metaphorical) legacy. More often, I just have a generous whim, I feel good about it, and I act on it.

I convinced D to spend a large amount on a new pair of designer jeans and clothes for work, because he finally found the sort of thing he was wanting. Justification: We never spend money on clothes for him. (And we're paying out the nose, so to speak, for the jeans, but he loves them and looks good in them; as opposed to the countless pairs of jeans, in prices ranging from super-cheap-on-sale to just below what we spent for these, which I have tried and returned because they don't fit him. And we had a gift card.)

Yes, he authorized the purchase... but I sort of hold the purse strings. You're wondering why, aren't you? I hear you pondering whether you should give D a small hint: Hm-hmm, an outlet for grief is all very well, but perhaps a little steadiness and economy, and a few other Jane Austenian qualities would not go amiss, have you considered having a little chat with your wife?

I am fortunate that the funds are, technically, there to be spent. And I came by part of this honestly from my mother, in the genes or the upbringing: she had a sanguine streak that allowed her to spend freely for something without robbing the whim of all its joy by subjecting it to an overly ponderous process of justification. Which is to say she justified it easily, and she did it immediately. I have to admit that learning to scrimp and save and make the most out of every dollar is not something I learned from her. It's not something I wanted to learn, nor something she wanted to teach me.

An acquaintance remarked to me that everyone she knew was cutting back for Christmas this year, whether they actually had to or not. I thought, we're not. In fact, it feels like we're going all out. She told me it probably feels that way because now we have three kids, but I know that it's not the three kids, because stockings can be filled inexpensively (although it would help if I had been raised to appreciate how a dollar can be stretched), it's the attitude towards what the three kids, and their mother's cousins, should have. (Actually, my cousins are not people I spend on, bless their dear hearts.)

And at the end of the day, it's grief, working itself out in a peculiar-but-not-strange sort of way in me. I recognize it, which is good. And I'm actually having little chats with myself (since I hold the purse strings).  I'm setting up budgets (not something I'm good at) and planning frugality for next year. Because first, of course, we have to get through Christmas — and if there's a time to splash gifts around and remember people whom you haven't talked to since hospice stopped coming to take care of your mother a year ago, for example, it's Christmas time. And the new year always feels so fresh, whether you're the resolutions type or not, so it makes it easier to tweak your life philosophy (or rather, your execution of it).

I'm looking forward to Christmas, and to spreading around all the joy in the form of packages that I want to. Last December, I went shopping for my mother for the boys and brought her back an assortment to choose from. "Why can't they have all of it?" was her loving, drained, near-whisper of a response.

I think I've carried that spirit with me through the whole year: a spirit of largesse, and an end-of-life perspective on what money really means, and what it doesn't.

I think that's exactly the way my grief was supposed to be spent.

Worship Song

Farther shall I go,

I cannot linger here.

Thy love compels me on,

I come to be with Thee.

Thy Spirit draws me on

To heights and depths in Thee:

Thyself, O God, the goal,

Thy presence all my plea.

With nothing in my hands

I come before Thy throne,

All self-will cast aside,

To learn of Thee alone.

Sergio Valori

A New View

My eyes have seen such beauty

I have pictures of these views

of lakes and mountains framed in ferns all summer long

and then in white when winter sweeps its crystal whiteness there

I have albums full of baby faces — laughing, sleeping, lashes long

for life has beauty everywhere
But all of these cannot compare to what is finally in view...

My pictures missed a color

never mixed on a palette

I've missed a shape no bended branch has ever sketched

I'd never before seen this depth, nor height

nor sheer intensity of Light

nor anything like this new sky:

Jesus, you have caught my eye.

— Hettie Brittz (May 2010)

Posted with permission.

Faith

Throughout the Bible, God's Word makes it clear that He does not respond to our needs. All mankind is drowning in its own needs over here; if God's business was to fix every need, He would have swept sin under the rug and let us all into heaven centuries ago. His business is actually far greater and of more benefit to us — while at the same time being less man-centric — than that. And He responds not to need, but to faith.

"And without faith it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him." (Heb 11.6)

In Luke 7, a Roman centurion sends Jewish messengers to Jesus asking him to heal one of his favorite servants. The Jews are all saying, "Oh, this is a good man. He built us a synagogue, he's pro-Jew, he's really got his priorities in the right place. You should definitely help him." Without addressing this attitude, Jesus starts out to his house. But before he gets there, the centurion sends more people to say, "Lord, I'm not such an important man that I deserve for You to grace my house with Your presence, or to see You face to face. Just say the word, and heal my servant. I am also (like You) a man of authority; I say to a soldier, 'Go here,' and he goes, and to my servant, 'Do this,' and it gets done."

What he was saying was, "You have just as real a command over this sickness as I do over my battalion and my servants. You don't need to lay hands on the man; one word from you will be effective." Jesus' response is astonishment, and He says, "I tell you, I have never seen such faith before, not even in Israel." Here He is, surrounded by His own Jewish people, who are willing to go so far as to believe that something might happen if they can get their sick into actual physical contact with Jesus; but there is this Roman gentile who believes one word spoken from a distance has more than sufficient power to accomplish what he is asking.

In John 4, starting in v. 46, a Jewish official begs Jesus to come heal his son, who is at the point of death. Jesus' response reveals that he's a bit tired of the limitations surrounding the way people ask: "Unless you see signs and wonders, you won't believe." The guy doesn't quite seem to get what Jesus is saying, so he just begs again: "We're running out of time, please come before he dies." Jesus answers, "Go home. Your son will live." And the man, surprisingly, is content with that. He goes home in faith — Jesus said it, so that's good enough for me — and discovers that his son did indeed begin to recover at the exact time of day when Jesus had said he would live.

In Matthew 15, starting in v. 22, another gentile, a woman, comes to Him and asks Him to help her daughter, who is oppressed by a demon. Jesus tells her, "I was sent to the house of Israel." (It's true that His earthly ministry was directed toward them. It was not until He accomplished His real work on the cross that the gentiles and Jews were given equal access to God.) "So," He says, "it's not right for me to take the children's [Israel's] bread and throw it to the dogs [the gentiles]." Does she get all upset that the Lord of glory is discriminating against her socially? No, she humbly accepts the place of dog before Him, but points out that dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters' table. In other words, this is a little thing she's asking of Him. Casting out a demon? Just crumbs on the floor, for One so powerful. Jesus healed her daughter instantly, because her faith was so great.

In Mark 5, starting in v. 24, Jesus is in the middle of a crowd, on His way to heal someone else, when a woman decides that all she needs is to just brush her fingers against His clothes somehow, and that will be enough for her to be healed. All of a sudden, Jesus stops and says, "Who touched me?" His disciples think he's starting to crack: "You are in the middle of a pressing throng, and you just now noticed that someone touched you???" It wasn't the physical touch He noticed, it was the fact that "power had gone out of Him." He sensed that here, in this sea of skeptics, His Father had (through Him) responded to genuine faith with the answer that He was longing to give anyway. The woman confesses what she did, and Jesus tells her that her faith is what made her whole.

Meanwhile, possibly due to this delay, the girl Jesus was on His way to heal has died. The situation at this point looks totally hopeless, and servants come from the house to tell her father, "Don't bother." It was one thing to cling to a little hope that Jesus might be able to do something for her when she was still alive, but at this point, what can even this miracle worker do about it? It's pointless. They had no idea Who they were really dealing with. Jesus replied, "Don't be afraid; only believe," and proceeded to go raise her up from the dead. But you'll notice that He wouldn't let anyone follow Him except 3 disciples, and He would not let anyone into the child's room except those 3 disciples and the parents. The lack of faith around Him was so strong, He refused to be hindered by it while He did this great thing. He would not "perform" in the middle of an atmosphere of unbelief.

It takes tremendous faith to give God a trusting response when everything to the natural eye looks like it is already swirling down the drain. When we pray, we are asking for something. The Word tells us to "ask in faith, with no doubting." (Jam 1.6) "Have faith in God... I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours." (Mar 11.24) Faith says, "I trust You to do this. I put my trust in You as my Answer, even when other things try to convince me that Your answer is no good." If we immediately received the answer, what would we need faith for? Faith is not faith unless it is tested. "Do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised." (Heb 10.35-36)

We "walk by faith, not by sight." (2 Cor 5.7) That means that we have to trust God despite what our five senses tell us. Our "flesh" — the parts of our universe that we have not yet allowed the King to conquer, and which are therefore actively trying to put Self on the throne and keep it there — will be a tool in the hands of the Enemy, who is quite skilled in trying to convince God's people that He is not who He says He is. Therefore, there will probably continue to be all kinds of evidence that points to the hopelessness of our various situations, and we will continually have to bring ourselves back to a focus of faith in our Redeemer, and choose by an act of willpower to agree with Paul, who said, "I know Whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed unto Him..." (2 Tim 1.12)

"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. More than that [i.e. peace with God through Jesus, access into His grace, and hope of His glory are the main cause for rejoicing here, but there's more...], we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces [strength of] character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given us." — Rom 5.1-5

The reason hope does not put us to shame is that we have been "born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading..." (1 Pet 1.3-4) Jesus is that living hope; He is Himself our inheritance. If that sounds weird and, well, unglamorous to you, that's because you don't know Him very well yet.

"Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing." (Jam 1.2-4) The testing of faith produces more than just the promised answer we've been waiting for. If we let it "have its full effect," it brings about our perfection and completion. Do you ever feel incomplete, like maybe there's just a little something about you not quite right, or still missing? Well you are incomplete! But you're not meant to stay that way. God has designed it so that our trials and tribulations strengthen us, produce "strength of character," as we read above. "Since therefore Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the same way of thinking, for whoever has suffered in the flesh has ceased from sin, so as to live for the rest of the time in the flesh no longer for human passions but for the will of God." (1 Pet 4.1-2)

The Lord is intent on securing for us far more than just those needs that we need to have met; He wants us to have that "strength of character" that will have lasting, eternal value. Nothing can stand in His presence that is not conformed to His own image, so we're not just talking about the kind of "character" that the world values; we're talking about me, Kit, and you, Reader, being made Christlike — so that when the King returns, and we see Him as He really is, and all the worthless parts of us that don't look like Him get blasted away by the sheer glory of His presence, we'll have something left besides the foundation which is Christ. (See 1 Cor 3.11-15. Actually, keep reading; the rest of the chapter is all part of the same thing.)

And He will use our current trials to do it. "For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." (2 Cor 4.17-18) Why does Paul say "this light momentary affliction"? Because he is superhuman and these things don't hurt him? No! Because when contrasted with what these afflictions are working for us, namely "an eternal weight of glory beyond comparison," we will one day understand just how "light" and "momentary" and utterly worth it all these trials are. The things we "see" (which really includes all the senses) around us do not feel in the least transient. They feel very real, and they sometimes hurt dreadfully. It takes faith to say, "What I see around me is not real; it is the eternal things, that I am being prepared to see, that are the Reality."

The good news is, we don't have to come up with that faith on our own. "I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me." (Gal 2.20) It is His own faith that He offers us, and all we have to do is take it. Maybe that's more easily said than done, but the whole point is that we cannot receive until we are broken. Brokenness is the primary prerequisite to a place in the Kingdom: "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." (Mat 5.3) If you feel like you don't have that faith, then ask for it, and be willing to receive the humbling that comes in answer.

What does a response of faith look like? If you are going through a trial, your prayers might sound a little pleading right now. That's normal and natural when we're in great need and in deep distress. But as we read above in Mark, if you "believe that you have received it," you will have it. It's already mine, that's what faith says. It doesn't matter that I can't see it yet. Faith counts her chickens before they are hatched, because God said there would be lots of chickens. So what does faith do? Faith praises! There are so many scriptures, like Psa 100.4 ("Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name!"), which indicate that praise is a key to getting into God's presence. Instead of begging God to do it, faith praises God that He is doing it. Faith acts like it is on the winning side, which is really an understatement, if we understood just how real it is that He has already won.

Only the Word will feed faith, because we have nothing to stand on except God's character as revealed through His Word. "God said this," faith says, "and that's good enough for me." What has God said He will do for you? Claim it in faith and praise Him! When you find yourself "double-minded" and "unstable" (Jam 1.6-8) in your stance, go back to the Word! Read it, speak it, praise Him for it!

"Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God so that at the proper time he may exalt you, casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you. [He is "for" you, and He has your best interests in mind.] Be sober-minded; be watchful. Your adversary the devil prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour. [He will try to slander God's character in a way that is very believable to you.] Resist him, firm in your faith [Refuse to listen to those lies, and listen only to what God has said in His Word], knowing that the same kinds of suffering are being experienced by your brotherhood throughout the world. And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ [Note that you are called to something far higher than just getting those needs met, or even developing a character that can stand the tests of time — you are called to His own, eternal glory!], will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever." (1 Pet 5.6-11)