"I hate money."
I used to say that all the time. I hated that it was necessary. I hated that I typically had none. When I had it, I hated that I mishandled it. I thought this position, the view that money was something to treat with great distain, was noble. It meant I wasn't materialistic, right?
Actually, I was so materialistic that I constantly dwelt on my financial status, or lack of. I didn't like being poor (who does?) After law school, I wanted that all to change. I spent my legal career in private practice. At first, I made a meager living and worried about how to pay the bills. When I started to make a decent living, I worried it wasn't enough. When I started to make a nice living, I felt guilty about what I had and yet still managed to worry if it was enough. (By the way, that phrase, "making a living," is strange. It directly ties money to life. There is something wrong with that statement and the culture from which it developed. Money ≠ Life).
By my mid-30s, I had some money. Not millions, but some. I could do things I couldn't do before. That was nice. I had gone from having very little to having more than enough. But it turns out that money doesn't buy happiness ("Awe, Kathleen, that's it? That's your deep theological point for this posting? You should have studied harder").
Everyone knows that platitude, but few people actually believe it. I actually believe it now. I believed it when I finally acknowledged the obvious: every dime I make, every thing I own, it was never mine to begin with. It all belongs to God.
This should make sense to anyone who even marginally acknowledges the existence of God. If God created me, then he is the one who gifted me with whatever talent I have that allows me to earn a wage. Therefore, the fruits are his.
The ironic part is that I have never had a more secure feeling in my life than when I finally acknowledged that my money is not my money, but God's. It's actually not all that hard to live like it's his money, either. He has never asked me to give it all up, every dollar and every thing (he did do that to a few people in Scripture, but he did that for specific reasons, sometimes seemingly because he saw how much they loved money and possessions). He never asked me to stop having fun. He just asked me to act like it was his money when I made decisions about that money.
This weekend, we are starting a new five-week series at Nativity, Forecast, about faith, finances and the future. What if, during this time of reflection about your finances, you actually suspended your disbelief in, or your distain for, the idea that your money and possessions really belong to God?
You have nothing to lose (not even your money). Just suspend your disbelief or distain, and be open every day to the suggestion that your money is not yours, but God's. Just listen to the message each week. Just read the Message Guide. Just take it in. For five weeks.
After that, if your heart hasn't changed, go back to the old way. The way that left me waking up in the middle night worrying about how to pay the rent, how to pay for college, how to get a higher paying job, how to get any job.
You always have a choice.
