Where Do You Put What You Don't Have?

I wish I lived in a smaller house. I'd have a lower mortgage. The utility bill wouldn't cause near as much pain. I'd have less house to clean. And I'd have less stuff. Don't get me wrong, I love my house. Just as important, my wife and kids love our house.

Nonetheless, there are days I long for a simpler life. And I believe that could be achieved with less house.

The primary reason is what I call the theory of expansion. The theory goes like this - you accumulate as much stuff as you have space to accumulate it. In other words, more space, more stuff. The amount of stuff expands to the amount of space. You can't move to bigger space to get more space because you'll inveriably get more stuff to fill the space.

It's a daily battle around our house to keep all our stuff put in its proper place. I constantly have to remind my kids that the entry way is not the place to accumulate the shoes that they kick off as soon as they walk through the front door. And don't leave your dirty close laying on the floor in your room. I never heard that one growing up. Ha!

Psalm 130:5-7 says this,

With all my heart I wait for the Lord to help me.
I put my hope in his word.

I wait for the Lord to help me.
I wait with more longing
than those on guard duty wait for the morning.
I'll say it again.
I wait with more longing
than those on guard duty wait for the morning.

Israel, put your hope in the Lord,
because the Lord's love never fails.
He sets his people completely free.

The psalmist begins by crying out to the Lord. The psalmist is suffering deeply. It seems as if the psalmist has exhausted all that the psalmist knows to do. The only thing that's left is to wait for the Lord's help.

Waiting for the Lord to help - that's called hope. You gotta put it somewhere. The psalmist puts it in the Lord.

Where do you put your hope? Truth be told, more often than I care to admit, I put it first in my own abilities, in what's familiar, in what I know. It's safer that way.

Paul says in Romans 8:24, "Hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has?"

Okay, I have a hard time putting all my stuff where it belongs. I've had this problem since childhood. But I have an even harder time putting what I don't have where it belongs, too. It's just plain hard to put your hope - your future, your dreams, your stuff - in something you can't see.

"Put your hope in the Lord," the psalmist says, "because the Lord's love never fails." Good counsel, isn't it. It's true. If you have any doubts, just read through a few pages of the Bible. The Lord's love hasn't failed me yet. Give it a try.

Being Thirsty in the Middle of the Night

Okay, I'm back. So it's been almost three weeks since I last posted. The pslog goes on, just haven't take time to reflect and record.

It's an ungodly hour of the morning. Well, it's not ungodly. It's actually quite peaceful. I just wish I was asleep like the rest of my family. God knows I'm tired and need the rest. It's just not happening right now. After lying awake, tossing around for the better part of an hour, I decided to get up and do something constructive. So here I am.

There's been plenty to pslog about lately - family vacation, back-to-school preparations, friends visiting from a long ways away. Sure, things have seemed busy. Not exceedingly more so than usual, though. I just haven't taken time to post anything.

And for that, I've felt guilty. Now why in the hell should I feel guilty for not posting? That's plain silliness. No one is expecting me to do this. I started "The Pslog" freely and without coersion. No one's losing money because I haven't posted. No one's health is being adversly affected. Doubt that anyone besides me is even losing sleep over it.

The bar of expectation is completely self-defined. But I still feel guilty. I go through the mental exercise of beating myself up for not being as disciplined as I want to be...or as I was taught that I should be. Then I question whether I have anything worth saying. Does it really matter if I post or not? I've read enough blogs to know that the standard for having something meaningful to say isn't very high at all. The sea of insignificance just sucks me right in.

Okay, I'll admit it. My self-confidence is fragile. Maintaining a healthy self-confidence is where I spend most of my time slogging. Have for years. Haven't admitted it to many folks along the way. That would make me vulnerable and expose my insecurities. Heaven forbid that anyone else knows about my frailty. That might only validate my questions of significance.

It's depressing. No, it's depression. Keeps me awake at night. Makes it hard to do simple, ordinary things. Lose my temper, but only with the people I love the most. Oh, I can put on the happy facade with the best of 'em. But it only masks the sadness that simmers inside.

I can really resonate with Psalm 42.

A deer longs for streams of water.
God, I long for you in the same way.
I am thirsty for God. I am thirsty for the living God.

My spirit is very sad deep down inside me.
You have sent wave upon wave of trouble over me.
It roars down on me like a waterfall.
All of your waves and breakers have rolled over me.

I say to God my Rock,
"Why must I go around in sorrow?
Why am I beaten down?"

My spirit, why are you so sad?
Why are you so upset deep down inside me?

Why I am so damn sad all the time? It doesn't make sense. I have a beautiful wife and three terrific kids. I live in a nice house in a great neighborhood. I come from a loving family, and I have good friends. I really lack for nothing. But the sorrow doesn't cease. It takes all the effort I can muster sometimes to navigate the forest of shame and grandiosity. Yet it seems like I don't make any progress at all. It gets old fast. It pisses me off, and it makes me tired.

I'm thirsty. I need something to quench my parched spirit. I've been so thirsty that I took a drop of the first that seemed to relieve my thirst, but it only left me thirsting for more.

God, I'm thirsty for you, for living water. I don't want to drink something only to be thirsty again. I want you to quench my thirst so that I don't have to keep going back to the well. That's what Jesus did for the Samaritan woman. I'm tired, and I need a drink so that I can rest in you.