Somewhere Between Greed and Grief: The Antidote

 

The Main Building, Original Property

Following my last post in which I shared the news that our beloved cottage is on the market, there have been questions and messages and encouragements, and for that I am so grateful.  Your kind engagement and care means a lot.

Today I want to pick this up again.  And to begin, I need to repeat that we do not in any want to, nor do we have to, leave the area.  That's because what's for sale is only a portion of what Ken and I have come into possession of through a mixture of inheritance and previous buyouts as the generational story of our family's time on these waters has unfolded. [Two properties that used to be one, severed in or around 1947, side by side.  The cottage we partially own and where we stay is the severed piece.  The other side which we fully own we'll call the original property.]

In the picture above you can see how much waterfront I'm talking about.  From the line you might draw at the tip of my kayak to the place where the shoreline curls back into the channel, that's pretty much all ours!  And, in my confession of greed, I would really rather keep it that way.  

There's something about this place that I can never get enough of.  For a lot of reasons.

We not only feel somehow intricated into the rocks and water and trees here, but there are also dear family members and friends who occupy other summer homes in the community called Cognashene.  And there is also the Church on the Rock, aka Cognashene Community Church, and the truly lovely people of faith who gather there every Sunday, weather permitting, throughout July and August.  We would be devasted if this sale meant we would be separated from all of that entirely.  The water, the kayak, the still mornings, the sunsets, the people.  The silence.  

Calm waters at sunrise

The place we currently reside in is the severed piece, and that is what's up for sale.  It's where Ken and I have been able to come for rest and restoration for the past 48 years of our married lives, where our children, and now our grandchildren have come to make a lifetime of memories.  

The Bunkie, Original Property

On the other side, the original property, you should know, is a brand new two-bedroom bunkie with a three-piece bathroom, a sturdy 1940's two-room sleeping cabin with no plumbing, and another main building that could most kindly be described as derelict-but-substantially-cleaned-out-with-dubious-but-still-hopeful-possibilities.  

Working Woodstove, Main Building, Original Property

It a decent amount of square footage, but with many other realities.  The kitchen is basically non-functional.  Wood stove still works, which was quite a surprise.  Foundation is questionable.  Roof is not snow-load-worthy, hence the supports.  Critters have figured out all the entrances between all the bits that are sagging.  There's one back room (not pictured, you're welcome) that may or may not have been called the "Squirrel Condo."

The "Kitchen" in the Main Building

There is no way our whole family could come up and be comfortable here.  Ken and I on our own wouldn't have a fully functioning kitchen even, and no place to be just to read or play Scrabble or relax.  It's not properly a 'cottage'.  Not yet at least.

This is the original family cottage, the first part of it built in 1919, with all the additions and out buildings added over the years.  We have been in full possession of this side of things for about ten years now, clearing out and tearing down and building and dreaming, while we sleep and eat next door where it's all inhabitable and comfy. What's new on this side is the bunkie, and also the boathouse, both replacing buildings that only needed a bit of nudging before being torn down completely.  It's been a lot of work.  And there's a lot of work to be done.  

Here's another piece of the greed thing.  Sometimes when I'm over here I can get overwhelmed, not just with what still needs to be tended to, but also with the sheer ownership of it.  Midst all the neglect-and-critter-ruined items, there's the really good stuff; antique furniture, dishes, small appliances, bedding and towels, a shopvac, tarps, hardware, and enough plastic food containers to last me until Jesus comes back.

Plain truth?  We've already cleared and donated so many bags of items from both properties.  Yet, even after cleaning out our city home on Blythwood two years ago, and all the letting go and purging we did then, we still have so much stuff!  To emphasize it, I'll say it again like this.  So.  Much.  Stuff!!!!

And this is where the Spirit takes me, gently pulling back the curtain to look at the whole picture.  Do you see it?  Ken and I already own a home in the city.  Currently we have two properties on Georgian Bay with generous waterfront and full of the comforts of life, more actually than we know what to do with.

And so there is the struggle.  Caught somewhere between the grief of what we'll lose, and the greed of even calling that a loss in light of all I do have.

Greed (Miriam Webster)

"A selfish and excessive desire for more of something 

(such as money) than is needed."

It's important to say here that none of this, as I sit quietly with the meditations, comes to me as harsh or condemning.  I find that the corrective discipline God brings to my attention is nothing whatsoever like any discipline I've ever experienced from any human source.  There is something truly holy about being held in such a space with overwhelming unconditional love.

And so, I sit safely with the intensity of my longings.  To feel them.  To separate out the grief from the greed.  Because both are there.  One is valid.  One is not.  One acknowledges the loss.  One clutches for lost things.  One needs to be integrated into who I am becoming.  One needs to be confronted and depowered.

Do I have an antidote for greed?  Over this past year I have been experimenting with the formula.  Here's what I've come up with so far.

One part generosity.  One part contentment.  One part eternity-mindedness. Two parts gratitude.

The generosity part is probably quite obvious.  Making sure you are open handed for the sake of others is in direct defiance of any greed that wants to determine what happens with resources. 

One person gives freely, yet gains even more;

another withholds unduly, comes to poverty.

A generous person will prosper; 

whoever refreshes others will be refreshed. 

Proverbs 11:24-25

The contentment is also probably obvious.  Knowing when enough is enough just dials it all down to a more peaceful level.

Godliness with contentment is great gain.

1 Timothy 6:6

The eternity-mindedness part is about beginning with the end in mind (a Steven Covey mantra), and imagining what how you want to be remembered.  What will how you lived say about who you are?

I consider my life worth nothing to me,

my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task

the Lord Jesus has given me.

Acts 20:24

And then there's gratitude.  Of course there's gratitude.  And by that I don't just mean the feeling of it, although that will indeed be the by product.  I mean first the practice of it.  The regular, maybe even every day, listing of every blessing of my life and just simply saying, "Thank You."

Bless the LORD, O my soul

and forget not all His benefits.

Psalm 103:5

To give gratitude two portions is really the trick.  Because I think gratitude actually does make generosity, contentment, and eternity-mindedness possible.

So there it is.  So far at least.  I've been growing through this over the past year, and it's not done yet.  We are not seeing much action at all on the listing, which is to be expected in today's market.  But something's gotta' give eventually.  And there will be hard goodbyes coming.

Not right now.  Right now I am being fully present in the moment, just here on the deck, letting it be.

My deck-office view.

I'll keep you posted, of course.  

Just thought it was time to tell this part of the story.

Somewhere Between Greed and Grief: The News

 

It's time to talk about it here.

Our beloved cottage is up for sale.

I am ready to talk about it now, but even just then, I had to stop typing for a second and give that statement some space.

There.

Okay.  

Obvious to anyone who's read this blog even once before is the fact that the good blessing of our cottage property, and the 100 years Ken's family has been in possession of it, is of immense spiritual importance to my soul, and to our family as a whole.  People up here talk about having some of their DNA in the rocks, of this being a constant place over a lifetime of many city moves, their sanctuary, their sacred place.  So we're not the only ones who acknowledge a deep emotional connection to this place.

To be clear, this potential sale does not mean we need to leave.  That's a significant piece of the bigger picture.

This is only one of two properties side by side that Ken and I acquired in a mixture of inheritance and previous buyouts as the generational story of our family's time on these waters has unfolded.  Only one.  It is the smaller portion, but also the more inhabited, comfortable portion, and the one we have made all our memories in.  

But it's only one portion.  Or did I say that already?

The reason for the sale is not tragic or unreasoned.  We only own half.  The other relative-owner is no longer able to use it at all, and it's time for a change.  Thing is, we can't do a buy out without jeopardizing our retirement plan finances.  Simply that.  Selling is the wise and reasoned thing to do given the circumstances.  

Most of this happened last season already.  That's when the property was first listed.  As you already know, neither the market nor the economy are exactly booming, and we have had minimal activity on the real estate website.  As expected, we are now closing off a second season with nothing budging.  So, there's no immediate urgency on this.  Just time to process and feel and let it be what it is.

I am reading through my journal from last season (an annual practice).  That's when we were doing the majority of the work to prepare for listing, and I was in the first stages of trying to let go.  As I read, and pause, and pray, the Spirit leads me gently into some of the deeper caverns of myself to sit with me for a bit.  

It seems He wants to chat about greed.

Greed (Miriam Webster)

"A selfish and excessive desire for more of something 

(such as money) than is needed."

I resist.  I consider myself to be more on the generous side than anything.  Who would call me greedy?  But then I lower my defenses and let it be possible.  What if I am?  What if the threat of this loss makes me desire it all the more?  What if I confessed my common fantasy, one this sale has exacerbated, of having all the abundance of resources to keep both properties and continue with renovations to accommodate our now-10-of-us family?  To have all the fancy boats and docks and decks that go with them?  

Luke 12:15

"Watch out!  Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; 

life does not consist in an abundance of possessions."

Writing it out like this, here and in my journal, I can see it for what it is; a selfish and excessive desire for more of something that is needed.  Yup.  There it is.  I mean come on!  We have a place to live in Kitchener...AND this place here.  Really!

Yet while I've been processing this for several months already, this is still kind of raw for me. I'm sorry if any part of this makes you uncomfortable.  On the other hand, if you're reading here, you probably already embrace a commitment to honest growth, and understand how important it is to me as a preacher/teacher who often talks about honest growth.  Or otherwise, I risk criticism and judgement, maybe even gossip.  I'm okay with that.  This is important.

There's something about the threat of losing something important that forces a rethink of what is important truly.

Because even if anyone approached us right now and offered to help us keep the place, my immediate and unhesitating response would be to ask that such funds be redirected instead to New Family Foundations' New Facility Project, building a place for orphan and at-risk children in Thailand to live and thrive and be unleashed into their best futures.  Or if you are not so inclined, perhaps I would direct you to invest in supportive housing for those who have no home at all.  

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Because sitting with the Spirit in these darker caverns of me, I am offered some medicine, a course of treatment for the malady of greed.  It's layered and nuanced and deserves a writing space of it's own, so...later.

For now dear friends, that's the news.

Thanks for journeying with me.

Thanks for the honest growing we can do together.

It means a lot.

Damsel in Distress

 

As much as I prefer to talk about egalitarianism more than feminism, I will admit that I find my own title today a tad triggering.  So, to be clear, I'm talking about insects not human females.  And this one, known as a damselfly, was indeed in need of rescuing.

My grandmother called them darning needles, and explained that they were a much gentler, more delicate cousin of the dragonfly.  Maybe it's the connection to my Gramma, but I've always felt pleased if one came close.  We used to hold out our hands and hoped that they'd land.

This one somehow made its way into our kitchen yesterday and was, like most insects, convinced the window was the way to get out, all frenetic with frantic wings and legs.  I invited it onto my finger where it immediately clamed down and perched on my nail for the ride.  I opened the door and set it free.  

And it reminded me of another time, another damselfly, and another moment of tenderness where the Spirit's whisper seemed especially close.

It we here by the water, and I was down on the dock, finished journaling but in no hurry to leave the sunset just yet.  It was a period of ministry life where I felt overrun with demands, and feeling not a little bit unnoticed and unappreciated.  I knew self-pity wasn't particularly the way to go, but the temptation to make myself my own damsel in distress was there.  I breathed in and asked for some truth.

Distracting me from this train of thought, I noticed a fresh and somewhat glistening damselfly crawling on the railing of our swim ladder, trying to fly but then falling and just catching itself in time to right itself and try again.

I coaxed this one onto my finger quite easily, and then noticed that one of its wings was bent under itself.  What do I know about these things, but it looked like this little creature had just emerged from its final molt of the aquatic nymph stage in a defective state.  I got it into my head that if I could just unfold that defective wing, this little lady might have a chance.

I named her at that point.  Twee.  It means "excessively or affectedly cute, dainty, quaint or sentimental."  Seemed appropriate.

It was delicate work, but I actually could get my fingernail under that wing and almost get it to come back open onto itself.  Over and over again I tried.  And I would almost get it, but then it would flip back again.  Twee stayed with me this whole time, calm, moving just a little, almost as if she was trying to help me help her.  

We tried for many minutes.  I didn't time it, but now the sun was all the way behind the trees, and that different evening light was making it harder to see the delicacies of the operation.  So I knew we'd been at it a while.  It seemed now a futile thing.

And I felt sad.  A soft kind of sadness, but genuine.  I put Twee down again on the ladder railing and wished her well, wanting now to let nature take its course,  Perhaps she would just be a meal for another larger creature up the food chain, which while a bit icky, could also be understood as a meaningful contribution to the bay's ecosystem.  Or perhaps she could, eventually make her wing work.  I hoped the best for her.  It may sound silly, but I really did.

And then, just before I got myself up, I "heard" it, however it is that we "hear" these things.  A thought, a Voice, a whisper.

"If you could offer as much affection and regard towards a damaged, fragile insect, even to the point of calling her by name, how much MORE do you think I feel for you, dear daughter of My heart?"

I held my breath.  There is was.  My truth.  

I felt wrapped in it.

And that truth is that I am in need of rescuing.  I am that damsel in distress, all helpless and vulnerable and broken.  The truth is I need Someone stronger to love me, more than any fairytale rescuer could possibly ever, and patiently tend to me in my brokenness....down on the dock...as the sun sets.  

But unlike the unknown ending of Twee, "I know Whom I have believed, and am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to Him until that day" (2 Timothy 1:12).  

And, "I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength" (Philippians 4:13).

And a whole pile of other promises I'll leave to sing another time.

And yesterday, I think God was reminding me.  

Because He does that.  

A lot. 

When I pay attention.

The Gentle Divine

Nothing so strong as gentleness,

nothing so gentle as real strength.

St. Francis de Sales

Just sitting quietly in this for now.

Gentle God.

Walks in the garden in the evening to be with us (Genesis 3:8).

Meets the helpless, pregnant Hagar to make sure she knows she's seen (Genesis 16:7-12).

Presents Himself as a still, small voice (1 Kings 19:12).

Makes me lay down in green pastures (Psalm 23:2).

Knows I am 'but dust' but meets me there anyways (Psalm 103:14).

Likens Himself to a nursing mother (Isaiah 49:15).

Arrives as an infant (Luke 2:7).

Sparrows fall, and He knows (Matthew 10:29)

Welcomes children (Mark 10:14).

Writes in the dust instead of throwing stones (John 8:4).

Comes to be our Comforter (John 14:16).

Speaks Mary's name to calm her (John 20:16).

Invites Thomas to touch His wounds (John 20:27)

Lays His hand on John's shoulder so he knows it's Him (Revelation 1:17).

Yes, I am familiar with the parts of the Bible that show us God's anger.  Difficult texts need to be honestly approached, in context, with a responsible hermeneutic.  They're there.  I won't try to explain them here.  I don't pretend to understand them all.  And I won't apologize for them either.

But perhaps they do describe how one doesn't cancel out the other; gentleness and strength.

Some folks talk about times when God gave them a 'good swift kick in the pants' or a 'smack across the side of the head.'  I don't question other people's experience of God, so if that's what they needed, okay. 

But not me.  Never.  In my 64 years of following Jesus (I was 5 when I made my first decision), I have not experienced God as anything but tenderly, powerfully present.  He may not have answered all my prayers according to the specifics I can sometimes quite audacious lay out to Him.  But He's always been there, holding me.  Always.

It's the kind of gentleness that makes me want to grow into it.  To be for others the gentleness I have received myself.

Hope you have a gentle kind of Tuesday.

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Don't know who might need this today.  I'm just working through preparations to teach Colossians 3:12-17 to the kids at Hot Springs next month, and these are the sorts of meditations that help provide the background work in my own soul first. 

Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved,

clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness,

humility, gentleness and patience.

Colossians 3:12

The bloom pictured above, with the delicate filaments all stretched out from a long tall stem, is called a 'blazing star.'  Seemed a perfect illustration of the dichotomous balance between gentleness and strength.  In the storm that ripped through our neighbourhood on August 8th, taking down large trees in nearby Victoria Park, this plant remained unbroken.

Humility and Human Connection

Humility is not thinking less of yourself;

it's thinking of yourself less.

C.S. Lewis

Let's talk about humility this morning.  Not a topic that wins a lot of views or likes, probably, but it's on the list I'm working through (see comments at the end), and the more I think about it, the more I wonder if humility may actually work more in our favour than we may realize.

First though, I'll post a link here from Psychology Today on Cultural Humility that I feel presents some solid research to explain certain dynamics behind all relational engagements, but particularly in cross-cultural settings where I find myself a lot these days.

But mostly, I'm thinking about Pastor Paul.  See, I think he's on to something with this whole humility deal.  This is from his second letter to the Corinthian Church, chapter 5:11-12.  In most Bibles, the section is given a title "The Ministry of Reconciliation," which I'll come back to in a second.

"Since, then, we know what it is to fear the Lord, we try to persuade others.  

What we are is plain to God, and I hope it is also plain to your conscience.  

We are not trying to commend ourselves to you again, 

but are giving you an opportunity to take pride in us, 

so that you can answer those who take pride in what is seen 

rather than what is in the heart."

2 Corinthians is a favourite of mine, which is odd because it’s largely Paul’s defense as to why he should be considered a legit apostle, and sometimes, as you read through it, if you do it in one sitting, you catch his annoyed tone.  Sort of underneath his words this thought, “I mean, really?  Are we still talking about this?”

And yet…there is still the pastoral heart so evident.  Pastor Paul really loved his peeps. 

In this section in 2 Corinthians 5, he’s having to prove himself again, but ironically, he’s going to couch it around this idea of reconciliation.  Specifically, what he’s going to call the ministry of reconciliation, and he’ll use the term ambassadors.

Ambassadors of reconciliation.  We all have, according to Paul anyways, been given the ministry of reconciliation.

This is where we get to the humility part.  Because....what if humility is a key to human connectivity; to the sharing of ideas and perspectives?  What if we actually might be more persuasive, more reconciliatory by our humility? 

And in verse 12 he says, “we’re not trying to commend ourselves.”

Which has to be really tempting for him to do, since he’s been put in this position of having to try to defend his role as an apostle. 

Add to that the fact that not commending himself would be completely counter to the Greco-Roman culture into which he was writing.  Walking around reciting your resume to impress others was considered the only way to make it in that world.  Status was everything.

Oh, how tempting it is to commend ourselves!  Prove ourselves.

Especially when we’re drawn into an argument. 

Deep down, we want to win.

We want to be right.

We want to be smarter, better, wiser than the clearly incorrect and misinformed folks who don’t share our opinion.  )(Oooh, did I say that out loud?)

Maybe it's an occupational hazard, but in this current religious-political environment I’ve been drawn into some really combative conversations that, I swear, I didn’t start.  Honestly.   And often as not, I end up feeling a tad insulted.   And then, if I sit in that even for a second I find myself getting all defensive.  Wanting to pull out my credentials, if I have any that matter in the issue.

But Paul doesn't do that.  So, what if we didn't either?  What if we approached potentially combative conversations with the true and humble acknowledgement that - brace yourself - we don’t know everything?  What if being right isn't the most important thing?  What if being open to other hearts is?

I don't mean we should abandon our deep convictions.  We can hold to honest ideas and beliefs faithfully.  It's not about being tossed about on matters that mean a lot and do indeed require thoughtful debate and definitive landing points.  Yet humility allows us to build the bridges, restore the connections, pull us together.  Because when we're humble, we're listening.  Honestly.

And who knows? Maybe something new will come to light, we'll change our minds on something, or at the very least, be better able to come alongside those who think differently.

There's more, of course.  Because it's humility that also allows us to ask for help, seek forgiveness, and change harmful behaviours.  It's humility that allows us to give others the benefit of the doubt and refrain from judgement.  And it's humility that opens the door for the deeper kinds of formation in our souls.  All of which are essential pieces to the assignment of being ambassadors of reconciliation.

Come to think of it, the people I feel most connected to, the ones I am most eager to work with, and in whose presence I feel most at ease have no hint of arrogance.  They are known and admired because of their humility.  Ambassadors usually do present with high degrees of matured humility.

Anyways, just some hopefully humble thoughts on the matter.  

This is one of the best features of growing older, I think; that there's always so much to learn and become.

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Don't know who might need this today.  I'm just working through preparations to teach Colossians 3:12-17 to the kids at Hot Springs next month, and these are the sorts of meditations that help provide the background work in my own soul first. 

Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved,

clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness,

humility, gentleness and patience.

Colossians 3:12

Pictured is the humble milkweed, which we know isn't all flashy in itself, but oh the attraction for monarch butterflies!

Just Be Kind

Unexpected kindness is the most powerful, least costly, 

and most underrated agent of human change.  

Bob Kerrey

I'll begin again with a referral to folks who know more about stuff than I do, and a link to an article from NeuroLaunch on The Psychology of Kindness.  And that's where I'm going this morning.  

Kindness.

Bob Kerrey's quote above makes me want to beat this one drum over and over again.

Just. Be. Kind.  We could change the world.  Or is that too far fetched?  I don't know.  It seems like it could work to me.  

What kind of world would we have if....

• We all let people go ahead of us in line ups.
• We offered a comforting smile and a word of encouragement to the parent in the store whose kid is having a meltdown.  
• We slowed our pace to match the slowest walker in our group.
• We checked in on the quiet one to make sure they were okay.
• We shoveled a sidewalk or mowed a lawn without being paid or asked.
• We looked up at our server and made eye contact with a smile as they approached our table.
• We tipped well, when we could.
• We listened harder when someone's English wasn't great.
• We spoke more clearly, without annoyance to someone whose hearing is impaired.
• We opened our posture and moved out a little so someone new could join the group.
• We made sure everyone got a piece of cake at the party.
• We thanked the Tim Horton's employee for being there on a long holiday weekend so we could get a coffee and a donut.
• We waited for a better moment when we sensed someone wasn't ready to hear whatever we had to say.
• We put aside our expectations for a fun time together with a friend when they arrived needing to talk about something that was upsetting them instead. 
• We saw something in the thrift store that reminded us of someone, so we bought it and randomly gave it to them for no reason.
• We did someone's chores for them as a surprise when they got home from a late meeting.
•  We chose our words very carefully, communicating respect and support, when and if we had to confront someone about something.
• We chose our words carefully, period.
• We said no gently and honestly.
• We said yes generously and as often as we could, within healthy boundaries.
• We sought ways to compliment and encourage each other as much as possible.
• We greeted each person as if they were the most important human in the world to us in that moment.
• We hugged the huggers hard, and gave space to the others with equal connectivity and joy.
• We shared.
• We took turns.
• We made room.
• We included.
• We accepted.
• We did unto others as we would have them do unto us.

Is it really that simple?  

What if it is?

What if the ending of war is so incredibly complex and layered and enmeshed and costly and ridiculous only because we forgot at the beginning of our connection just to be kind.  What if it actually does start here? Could we change the world?

I think we could.  Or we could at least try.

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Don't know who might need this today.  I'm just working through preparations to teach Colossians 3:12-17 to the kids at Hot Springs next month, and these are the sorts of meditations that help provide the background work in my own soul first.

 "Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, 
clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, 
humility, gentleness and patience."
Colossians 3:12

The photo above is again from my morning walk.  My phone ap tells me this sweet thing has what seems to me the unfortunate name of hairy evening primrose.  Who comes up with this stuff?  Not sure if this is connected to kindness in any way at all, except I could add 'refrain from calling each other names" to my list.  Maybe I'll be kind and just call it an evening primrose.  Unless being hairy is a good thing.  It might be.  And now I'm just rambling.

When Being Compassionate Sabotages Your Ability to Be Compassionate

"We must learn to regard people less in the light
of what they do or omit to do,
and more in the light of what they suffer."
Dietrich Bonhoeffer

It's not happening right at this moment, but I do bump up against this from time to time.  Not as often as in earlier decades of my life, when I bumbled along in my boundary-vague attempts at being a compassionate person.  I was not good at it then, not at all.  Still have lots to learn, in fact.  Since, from time to time, I'm still figuring this out.

For a more researched and intelligent perspective on this topic, I would leave here a link to a Psychology Today's article on compassion fatigue.  

For now, for the sake of just me and my own ruminations, I might offer some hard learned lessons on how to be empathetic and merciful and generous, and still stay in the game of humanity-for-humanity, as God both demonstrates to us and call us to be agents of.

This is not for those who compartmentalize well, feel lightly, stay cognitively unaware of the suffering of others, while they contribute greatly to the world in other important ways.  This is for those who walk into a room and immediately know who's hurting, feel their pain with them, and feel a compelling desire to help alleviate it.

For those who sometimes get sabotaged in their ability to be compassionate by being...compassionate.

1.  Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.  Proverbs 4:23

It may seem strange to begin with an inward focus when we're talking about being outwardly attuned.  However, since those with compassionate hearts often forget where they end and others begin, it is essential to establish consistent, healthy practices of self care.  

We will not be able to sustain any kind of ministry to those in need, particularly to those in chronic, dire situations who have their own boundary issues, if we do not take the time and space to restore our own energies.  

While the proverb above is directed towards walking in righteousness, and not specifically about self care, it still applies.  Our ability to make honorable decisions about how we are interacting with people depends entirely on how nourished, rested, and restored we are as we care for them from a place of strength.

It doesn't hurt to add here the suggestion that we take the time to figure out our own needs -- for importance, for approval, to be needed, for example -- that may or may not be driving some less than healthy involvement, even as it appears to be loving and compassionate.  This may or may not require some professional guidance.  It's worth it, if it does.

2.  Do not give to dogs what is sacred.  Matthew 7:6

This sounds harsh.  But it is a warning to be discerning about what we are offering to some who will actually not be helped by our compassion.  Instead, more harm happens when we allow any individual to monopolize and drain us of resources, whether that's time, money or energy.  It is impossible to help someone who won't be a participant in their own solutions.  A whole lot of compassion fatigue is the result of continuing in a situation that never resolves due to the lack of effort or response from the person we are helping.

It doesn't take rocket science to see how chronically needy people and merciful empaths can often find themselves locked into impossible connections that are simply not going anywhere good.

3.  Act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.  Micah 6:8

The harder part is to choose to stay engaged in the suffering of others, even after you've been used or used up.  It's so tempting to decide that the best protection is to just wall up and keep everyone else out; run and hide; refuse to interact in any helpful ways just in case you get drawn in too deep again.  But there's no argument for that in God's instructions to us as to how we are to be on mission with Him.

Compassion is not optional.  Not for those who are intentionally in a "process to be formed into the likeness of Christ for the sake of others" (Mulholland).  Not if we claim to follow Jesus, Who's compassion took Him to the cross. 

As I said, right now I'm fairly confident that I'm operating within balanced boundaries, fully engaged where I'm called to be engaged, and leaving alone what is none of my business, except of course to pray and encourage and stay obediently available.

Don't know who might need this today.  I'm just working through preparations to teach Colossians 3:12-17 to the kids at Hot Springs next month, and these are the sorts of meditations that help provide the background work in my own soul first.

 "Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, 
clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, 
humility, gentleness and patience."
Colossians 3:12

The picture above, by the way, is not digitally edited in any way.  These are some hibiscus blooms poking through the fence along my morning route.  Maybe some compassion breaking through the fatigue to still offer what they can to the world.