Pits

I've been thinking a lot lately about life.  Recent events in the news, movies I have watched, and books that I have read have forced me to look at my own life through different eyes.  I have done a lot of pondering about what it is in a typical day that steals my love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control.

I have to wait too long at the traffic light, and then the person beside me cuts me off and I can't make my lane change in time, and end up missing my turn.

It takes 15 minutes for my computer to boot up, and then the Internet is down and I can't check my email.

My car is burning oil, and I can't really afford to have it looked at, let alone replace it.

There is a constant temptation to eat too much, especially at this time of year, and I can just sense the extra weight lurking in the dark corners, waiting to pounce on me.

And where on earth did those wrinkles around my eyes come from, and when did my arms get so short that they can't hold my book at the proper distance for me to focus on the words?

That's where the news, and the movies, and the books come in.  I watched people camped out in parks, in their winterised tents, eating three meals a day of donated food, claiming to be the 99% of world poor.  I  watched a movie about Corrie ten Boom, who for her God and for justice, endured horrific circumstances and came out of it with more grace in her little finger than I fear I will demonstrate in my lifetime.  I read a book about the plight of a dislocated people clinging to existence in a war-torn country.  And I thought, You know what?  All my problems would be solved if I just lived in Somalia.

Really.

I would never get stuck in traffic jams.

I wouldn't have to wait for my slow computer to boot up.

I'd never have to put gas in a car again, let alone oil.

I wouldn't have to worry one bit about eating too much, and losing those few extra pounds would be a snap.

As for the wrinkles around my eyes and my failing eyesight?  No worries.  I would have died of disease or war or starvation long before I got to that stage.

I try to imagine Corrie ten Boom worrying about being cut off in traffic as she watched her sister being beaten by concentration camp guards.  I try to imagine what people in countries where over half the children suffer from constant malnutrition would say about a society that spends thousands upon thousands of dollars on weight-loss plans and diet foods.  I try to imagine how the thousands of people who live in city dumps around the world would feel about being lumped with the tent-dwellers of North American parks.

I can't.  I can't imagine it.

And suddenly I see my life revealed for what it really is:  selfish, opulant, and utterly self-absorbed.

Oh, it's not like the worst thing I've ever had to face is a bad hair day.  I have faced my share of honest heartache, loss, and pain, things that would hurt no matter where I lived.  Things of the heart know no borders.  But that does not change the fact that much of what causes me frustration in my day comes not from the fact that I do not have what I need, but from the fact that I have so much -- even more than I need.

Corrie ten Boom said, "There is no pit so deep that He is not deeper still.  I know, because I've been in it."  I know there are some pits about which I can say, "He is deeper still."  He is deeper than the pit of childhood hurt, loss, unemployment, cancer, and death.  But the unsyncronised traffic lights?  my slow computer?  my aging car?  my struggle to say no to Christmas shortbread?  my aging self?   Are these things really the pit I sometimes imagine them to be?

Amos says to me,  "How terrible it will be for you who lounge in luxury and think you are secure . .  . ! You are famous and popular . . . , you to whom the people go for help. . . .  You push away every thought of coming disaster, but your actions only bring the day of judgment closer.  How terrible it will be for you who sprawl on ivory beds surrounded with luxury, eating the meat of tender lambs and choice calves. You sing idle songs to the sound of the harp, and you fancy yourselves to be great musicians, as King David was. You drink wine by the bowlful, and you perfume yourselves with exotic fragrances, caring nothing at all that your nation is going to ruin. Therefore, you will be the first to be led away as captives. . . . But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!"  (Amos 6:1-7; 5:24).

God, forgive me for my selfishness.  Forgive me for my small-mindedness.  Help me to look with open eyes at the blessings with which you shower me, and help me to use them to be a person of justice in an unjust world.