Obsessed with Comfort...

I sat with a woman named Grace for a few hours. At 72 years old, she is full of wisdom, perspective and humility. Life has sifted out all the unimportant scraps and has left a list of what really matters. The two can often be confused for us today.

Near the end of our time, we talked about how beautiful her screened-in porch was and the nice breeze that came through on a rather hot, North Carolina afternoon. Her response has stuck with me, “I don’t really turn my air conditioner on much. You know, there was a day not too long ago when we didn’t have it. People seem to think all of us in the south were dying by the millions down here in the heat.” She laughed as she said it, but her point was strong. We hate being uncomfortable. Despise it, really. And at all costs attempt to find a way around it’s sharp sting.

As a culture we have “advanced,” or so we think. Stepping back and evaluating, I wonder just how driven we are by the idea of comfort. It dazzles us, in the distance, ahead of us, and tells us that peace is promised with just the right amount of certain stuff. Almost every new gadget, every upgrade and every better model, is meant to bring more ease, more comfort or more time. But for what? Our motivation is to arrive at a place of rest, and all the while we are working harder and longer hours, never learning what it means to be quiet and still, connected all the time. Ironically, we are more wealthy than any other country, and yet a population of more people with anxiety disorders than any other country. Since 1988, with all our “advancements,” antidepressant prescriptions have doubled every three years in America. Driven by and consumed with comfort, we are left wanting. Desperate and hollow.

Essentially, we are seeking what we are made for, “blessing” from the Lord. This is what He does, this is who He is. Throughout scripture it has always been His theme, to pour out blessing to His people. Our definition becomes the problem. I have often wondered what Jesus really meant when He promised that those who follow Him will be “blessed.” Repeated over and over in Matthew 5 in The Beatitudes, Jesus uses this particular word. However, the situations that lead to blessing, are quite the opposite of what we think of today. Here are Jesus’ words based upon the New International Version:

3 “Blessed are the poor in spirit,
   for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
4 Blessed are those who mourn,
   for they will be comforted.
5 Blessed are the meek,
   for they will inherit the earth.
6 Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness,
   for they will be filled.
7 Blessed are the merciful,
   for they will be shown mercy.
8 Blessed are the pure in heart,
   for they will see God.
9 Blessed are the peacemakers,
   for they will be called children of God.
10 Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness,
   for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
   11 “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me. 12 Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

Each verse uses a phrase we would hardly admit to as a personal goal. And yet according to the way of the Kingdom, life-changing blessing comes from such seemingly upside down traits. It is not uncommon to hear people refer to America as a “blessed nation,” and as I have reflected more on scripture, the life of Jesus and the insatiable drive our materialism creates in us, I would firmly disagree. If blessing meant, “a lot of stuff,” than America would absolutely be considered blessed, but according to the biblical definition we must rethink this statement altogether.

I work in a private, Christian school where most of our families are financially in the upper bracket of society. Over many years of observation, I have noticed that the kids who seem to have the most materially, are in fact the least content. There is an unsettledness in them, an emptiness that plays out with a demanding response to circumstances that have not quite gone as they hoped. When they slam up against an unexpected roadblock, they become angry and frustrated. Their goal of comfort and avoidance of pain, were not met. They are floundering. There is no question, we all struggle with disappointments, and yet scripture speaks to a life-changing reality: this is not our home. Often Jesus reminds us of the fallen state of the world and the pain that comes along with it. In John 16:33 Jesus says, “In this world you WILL have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world.” We would be hard pressed to find anything in scripture that speaks of comfort and ease as a promise this side of heaven; it is quite the opposite. The path to the cross would be a brutal one tangled with physical pain, spiritual darkness and personal betrayal. Nothing about the story of salvation would be easy, and as His followers, He promises we will endure the same.

With careful observation, one can see the stories of the gospels are fierce and drizzled with blood, fear, and loss. Salvation itself would come to mankind through the horrific death of Jesus. His words shatter any hint that His objective would be our comfort: “Take up your cross daily and follow me.” Essentially, He is telling us to die to comfort, worldly success and the consumption of stuff that we think will buffer our lives from pain. He calls us to die to ourselves. And yet, if you or I sit in front of the T.V. for even thirty minutes, or skim through a magazine in the rack, we will be amazed at the push for the pursuit and obsession with personal comfort. We have forgotten our higher calling and in turn have narrowed it down to nice cars, stylish clothes, and a neighborhood with a name. Slowly and subtly, we want to take over the throne. Our personal comfort becomes our driving force, our top priority and over time, we have formed an idol that in turn will destroy us. We have subtly gotten off track by misplaced desire. Tim Keller put it this way in a recent quote on Twitter:

You've distorted your deepest wish by trying to make it into your savior, and now that you finally have it, it's turned on you.

Idolatry leads to a slow, dark transformation, changing our values and stealing our peace, joy, purpose and hope. Instead, the call is for us to worship the Creator of all good things, and to experience His goodness here as He intended. Our eternity starts now, inklings of Heaven are all about us, and yet we have lived each day for smaller, selfishly motivated gratification. We have settled in and inevitably, when things don’t provide us pleasure, we cave into fear and anxiety. I want my students to know fullness here and now, and not by obsessing on personal comfort, but by obsessing on their part in the distribution of the Spirit here. This was the gift Jesus gave to His people when He departed, the Spirit, to go and impart His presence to every human being. To be a part of change and purpose so powerful, that comfort and personal happiness are no longer the goal, but a by-product of tilling the sacred soil around us.

Jesus calls us to know Him and experience Him here, to be ambassadors of His, to bring His continued presence here; to redeem, transform and unveil Him to the furthest corners of the earth. Jesus seeks to bless us, to truly bless us. We will experience authentic satisfaction when we redefine what matters and when we stop seeking personal comfort as our most valuable end. We are reminded of a higher goal: His Kingdom. His promise is clear, “blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.”

The Springton Reservoir: A Childhood Treasure Chest.

The woods behind my house are splintered with my memories. They swipe across my mind like the overgrown branches swipe cross my cheek as I walk the path again. Old bottles we thought were antiques left by old pioneers and fisherman from the early 20th century. Scanning the piles of leaves and broken down trees for left antlers after falling off adult deer that roamed behind our house at dusk and dawn. We found old bones and pieces of more bones from dead animals either fighting to their death or fading away from old age and disease. I can recall, in the dim places of my memories, the enormous nests of Canadian Geese, the towering rock we would climb on like it was a mountain range high, the still water with Blue Gill and Bass we hoped to catch. Winter was serene. Soft, like a dusting of peace, there was snow everywhere. Crunching broke the silence, but we still knew we were alone. The ice clinked like a song when pierced by our tossed rocks, and when it was thick enough, we would be brave, and careless, riding our bikes across the lake believing it was firm enough to hold our middle-school selves...or at least we hoped. Tuned to the sounds around us, our ears were sharp and alert, ready for a display, a sliver of God’s goodness and beauty. We waited and anticipated, until all of nature would birth for us a moment from the bowels of the spiritual world. Inevitably, it would come, like turning the corner at just the right time.

Like a stroke of a brush, these sights, sounds and stories have painted the colors of my story and the framed snapshots of a childhood preserved. Closing my eyes, I can go back in a moment. Walking those paths: I am back in elementary school, middle school, high school, visits home from college, and in from North Carolina over Christmas break. My blood runs rich with these recollections.

My thoughts will begin to turn, and with ache and longing, I desire to sketch this picture for everyone, to walk those paths in their own histories and to have built the same forts in their younger years. In many ways, it is quite sweet and even sacred. For no one really knows except Kim, Mark, Tim and me...we share the sights, sounds, colors, treasures, and stirring that is brought to the surface when any one of us wanders down with the boys, or alone...and faintly, in our thoughts, like a distant echo, we hear the bell ringing again, and mom calling us home for dinner.