Money = happiness?

“Bread is made for laughter, and wine gladdens life, and money answers everything.” - Ecclesiastes 10:19

“For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils. It is through this craving that some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pangs.” - I Timothy 6:10

The key to good advertising is to convince the potential consumers that their lives are much better with the product being advertised. Moms and children get along better with the right laundry detergent, you can run faster with the right shoes, and your wife will love you even more with the right diamonds. The smiles on those actors’ faces can be extremely convincing.

So, what makes you smile?

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Oh, America.

You’re so confusing.

Life at 70mph.

It’s been raining in Dallas. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this weather. It’s definitely a welcome change from the triple-digit temperatures, but there’s something about the rain that spurs the thoughts. Something about the scent of rain.

I can tell it’s been awhile since it’s rained in Dallas just by driving around all day. You can see it in the driving. Everyone is hesitant to drive normally. And I’m hesitant to drive around these people. But as I was attempting to make it home safely down crazy Hwy 75, intensely gripping my wheel and untrusting every driver on the road, I passed a car on the left. Broken down, emergency lights blinking, hood up with someone looking in it. My foot went on the brake and I quickly released it, realizing I was already half a mile away from the poor guy. And I have very little knowledge about cars.

I kept driving, wondering if I should turn around (which would have required me to exit, turnaround at the overpass and then figure out which turnaround to take again and get back on the highway) and I passed another car on the right side of the road with its emergency lights on. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t see anyone standing outside and like I said, I’m a typical girl. And typical girls don’t know much about cars. And typical girls are easy targets.

What a gyp.

I wonder if God intended for life to be this way. For people to need help but for us to be moving so fast, eyes so focused on our destination that we fail to stop and help them out. For people to fear helping each other out (people always remind me I’m a very small girl and that very small girls are easy to be taken advantage of) and for people to just keep to themselves.

As I neared my own destination, I wondered what it was like when Jesus walked the earth. He was always walking. He could stop at any time (and if Jesus was anything like me, He would’ve stopped a lot) and just say, “What’s up!” And if you were one of the many random people He talked to, He never failed to invite them to come along. He always extended His hand and words to help, then said, “Hey! Let’s go! Come on!”

How much different would the life of Christ have been if He drove a car? If He was speeding from town to town in His Lamborghini, waving His hand “hi” to those He passed on by? If that Samaritan woman didn’t get the amazing privilege of Jesus actually telling her, “Hey, I’m the One” because He went to get some bottled water at the convenience store while He filled the car up with gas instead of stopping at one of those really slow do-it-yourself wells.

Sometimes I really hate being civilized. We were meant for so much more than comfort, security, and air-conditioned, five-speaker, built-in GPS, rearview camera, heated seat cars. But somehow I always manage to get caught up in the muck of it all.

Anyone want to trade a bike for my car?

Second place is just the first what?

With all the Mavs-Spurs ruckus this past week, I started to wonder, “What’s this all about?” Since when did people decide to stop, drop, and roll to watch ten tall guys bounce a ball around and see how many times they can get it into a hoop? Seriously, how much is it to score some playoff tickets? Or how much money do people spend to deck out in their favorite team’s gear, round up a lot of drinks and foods, and cheer for guys they’ve never even met for a trophy they’ll never touch and for a title that will belong to somebody else next year anyway? Don’t get me wrong, I definitely watched that last 4th quarter biting my nails and holding my breath, but what is it about sports that gets people all riled up?

Maybe we can strip it down. Maybe it’s just plain ol’ competition that gets people riled up. Who can sing and entertain better? American Idol. Who is smarter and has a better personality? The Apprentice. Who can outwit, outplay, and outmatch? Survivor.

What is this need to win? What is this need to be first place (nevermind second, because they are just the first loser). What exactly are we competing for? These things we win don’t seem to last. I’m sure someone will throw away my dust gathering trophies one day. The bragging rights and sense of pride I achieved when I won those trophies sure haven’t carried up ’til now. And if I scored some money, I’m sure I spent it all within a month anyway. Even if I could bottle all this up and lug it with me at all times, what happens to it all when I die? “Hey, Peter, look at all this dough and shiny medals and plastic trophies I’ve got! Cool, huh! So when are you going to let me in those fine pearly gates?”

Something tells me all the money in the world and winning all the championships there are to win will never get me through the gates of Heaven. Not without a heart devoted to Christ. Not without confessing that without God’s grace, I shouldn’t even be at gates to begin with. Not without acknowledging the fact that the only competition that ever mattered was between God and Satan and that Jesus Christ won that battle over 2000 years ago.

This isn’t so much an anti-sports and -competition rant as a call to stop and think things out. Like how much money we lavish upon entertainment and how, in a roundabout way, the world seems to determine everyone’s self-worth. When I think about these things my mind just simply freezes because it wants to stop everything and start over, but it can’t. But what I know I can do is change my lifestyle to reflect what I do believe in and don’t believe in. No, this doesn’t mean I will ban reality shows or not enroll my kiddos in rec sports. But I probably could manage to spend less money on concerts and start tithing as the Lord has instructed. Maybe I don’t need a new digital camera to take pictures of new memories that will soon become old foreign memories; I could probably make new memories at a homeless shelter and feed a few new friends.

Well. Time for bed. One day this dog will have more bite than bark.

(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction.

I was driving home from a very stressful day at work and the thought came into my head, “Sometimes my job is not satisfying.” I say ’sometimes’ because most of the time, it is rewarding. Fix something that was broken, turn frowns into smiles, put in your two cents so the store can make a billion… yeah, that makes for a decent job. But sometimes I can’t fix a problem, sometimes I see too many unhappy people, and sometimes try as I might, I can’t sell my two cents.

The retail business is a crazy machine. It’s a machine that ultimately lives off of numbers. I’m often convinced that the machine is actually a monster, and one that eats two things: money and people. You’ve got this crazy word called “budget” and some dude somewhere devised a formula that probably goes something like this: $ + $$ = $$$. Or, in simpler terms, “make more money.” I think the customers become side orders. I think sometimes the customer interaction is simply something that we can feel good about after making a sell. What are we really happy about? The fact that we just offered a customer the complete solution or the fact that we got a pretty penny (or a grand) from their pockets? Is there such a thing as a retail business that is customer-driven? I mean, a business that measures good business through the amount of happy people walking out of the door instead of how much money we got from the people walking out of the door? Do happy customers necessarily mean amazing numbers every day?

That’s the pickle I am forced to eat each day I’m at work. I used to be convicted about my job. Well, okay, I mean I used to be extremely convicted about my job. But then I remember I live in the United States of America. Land of the free, yes, but there are costs to living here. Don’t get me wrong, I value my job, but really… is it necessary to charge what we do? Who decided that coffee would be five bucks a cup, a movie in a movie theater is nine bucks, and fixing a computer would be three hundred bucks? Actually, who decided that we need coffee, movies, or computers?

When I get like this, I think of Africa. I think of some foreign land that I see only on television with those hungry kids with those big eyes. Those big haunting eyes that ask me if I’m having a good time watching them through my 36″ flat screen TV. I wonder if I would get satisfaction from moving to Africa and simply living a life that was totally dependent on God. Somehow I would spread the Word, feed the hungry, and make a difference while somehow managing to find a roof to live under and food to feed myself. I can only imagine how crazy people would think I was if I just up and left with what little money I had. But would it be satisfying? I can’t imagine helping others in their prime level of need to be unsatisfying. “Oh man, another day in the office. I helped feed another hungry mouth, built another house for a family, and witnessed a few people turn their lives to Jesus. It’s days like these that make me wish I had another job.”

I don’t know. I’m an American. Americans don’t just skip out on their country, leaving their families and money and gadgets behind for a country full of strangers that can’t even speak English. But what if I abandoned my self-absorption and wavering faith for my God and did exactly that? Or, even crazier, what if ten of us did so? Ten hundred? Ten thousand?

Oh, these crazy thoughts I think when I really need to go to bed.