What about ME? : putting life back into perspective

At the beginning of my freshman year at Bob Jones University around this time last fall, one of the least expected adjustments was the abundance of churches.  With churches on nearly every street corner, I was--for the first time--given a choice in where to attend.  By the time a month had passed, I was already tired of church shopping and finally settled on a church where the sermons seemed to be directed right at a place in my life that needed attention every time I visited.

Convicting sermons that "hit the spot" aren't quite as easy to take as my mom's meals that also "hit the spot," though.  The phrase is the same, but the hit is very different.  A sermon that speaks conviction into my life is one of my favorite things because it points directly at a specific place that requires action and reminds me to open construction on that area.  This kind of sermon is also my least favorite because it proves that I have a lot of personal work to do, and that is always a struggle.

One such of these sermons was given at my church of choice when I most needed it (but least wanted to expend energy on repairs).  On the Sunday that the congregation opened hundreds of Bibles to Philippians 2:14, I knew this verse wasn't just for quoting to kids with bad attitudes.  It's not just to prove your child is a sinner.  It's for me.
"Do all things without murmuring and disputing [complaining, arguing]."  Every time I come upon this verse, I kind of like to slide right through it without stopping too long.  Guilty thoughts of "yes, I know, I know!" and "yeah right" and "is that even vaguely possible?" start racing through my head before I can even finish reading the 7 word verse, making excuses for when I fail to live it out.  Of course not complaining is wise and ideal, but does God have any idea how hard it is to turn that verse into a lifestyle in this sinful world?

The reality is that Philippians 2:14 is just as important as it is simple.  In that morning's sermon, "complaining" was explained as telling God that we deserve better and/or more out of life.  Something about that definition has caused me to pause a little longer and dig in a little deeper.  I've begun preaching to myself the depth of this definition so that it sinks into every part of who I am.
In my own life, complaining has become a habit.  Habits are like splinters.  The longer they stay, the deeper they go and the harder they are to get out again.

Our world--and maybe particularly Americans--are so in-shape when it comes to telling our Creator that life isn't quite good enough for us.  Much of what we do and say communicates the idea that the world must revolve around "me" for happiness.  We spend more time talking and thinking about the fact that the job doesn't pay enough, chocolate is too expensive, the mattress isn't comfortable enough (or it's too cushy!), I don't have Billy's talent, my toast is a little overdone, the neighbors are too loud, a different game would've been more fun, life hasn't gone as planned, and the weather isn't just right instead of talking about all the ways we live over-abundant lives, constantly surrounded by more than we need for life.

I tell God that I deserve better in every-day ways like complaining about a breakfast that didn't quite agree with my taste-buds, a restless night, my "need" for ice cream, lack of time to accomplish everything, and cold feet.  And sometimes I'm more pointed, like telling God that my life isn't fair and that I didn't ask for this.

But when I stop thinking about myself and look around, I see people hurting so much more than I am and start wondering why God was compelled to bless me above and beyond what I deserve.

The truth is that there are people out there in perpetual physical pain that is extremely restraining; there are people rejected by their families, desperately needing hope and healing; there are people and whole villages who don't have access to clean water to quench exhausting thirst; people who have watched their whole families face persecution and death in nightmarish ways; people who have to flee and start over on life in somewhere they don't want to call home; people who have never experienced the meaning of family, love, or grace where the real freedom is.

I think Philippians 2:14 is getting at the idea that our complaints cause Jesus to feel shredded up.  When I speak of not wanting to go to work instead of being thankful for a wonderful job, when I communicate envy over what someone else has or experiences instead of expressing gratitude for what I do have, when I argue that my opponent isn't playing by MY rules or pick apart the details instead of finding the fun in what is, I think God senses that His sacrifice didn't mean enough for me.

The question is this: Why do we choose a lifestyle that communicates dissatisfaction for life and God?
Let's stop adjusting the focus onto ourselves.  Let's turn the lens outward and upward.  Stop the self-pity, stop outlining what could be better, and start seeing what is.
Thankfulness leads to contentment, contentment leads to joy, and joy leads to real life.  Let's become people who are amazed at everything God has chosen to pour into our lives and tell Him that anything is good enough as long as we can still have Him.