A Truly Simple Life

Acknowledgment of the Philippians’ Gift

I rejoice in the Lord greatly that now at last you have revived your concern for me; indeed, you were concerned for me, but had no opportunity to show it. Not that I am referring to being in need; for I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and of being in need. I can do all things through him who strengthens me.”

- Philippians 4:10-13 (NRSV)

It’s an art form. Crafting thoughtful note cards, wrapping our ink-soaked words in tight envelopes, preparing them for the chaotic journey faced by anything being transplanted from one heart to another. ‘Get Well’ messages received when we are laid up in bed from the flu or held captive in the foreign country of a local rehabilitation center. ‘Happy Birthday’ greetings reminding us that our birth remains a life worth celebrating. ‘Sympathy’ cards containing words that tear-filled eyes and grief-soaked minds find intellectually illegible but that nevertheless wrap around us like a life jacket in an ocean of new loneliness. ‘Thank You’ notes, a complex compilation of each expression - celebration, joy, grief, connection – the most challenging of all the note card genres. Written by only the most proficient or obligated practitioner. The ‘Thank You’ card opens, lifts, and centers each recipient in the storefront window of life, creating space for all the world to stop and admire the beauty of a gift offered and accepted.  

Although often overlooked and underrated for the artists that they are, there remain many masters of this ancient card-writing practice sitting among us today. Kelly Mahoney has shared how gifted her husband, Brook, is at writing cards to people and as a past recipient, I must say I agree with her assessment. Cindy Wiant and Name Binning have made it a spiritual practice to send note cards to members of our congregation who are on the prayer chain. Harry Postlethwait sent me a note card reminding me to take care of myself this summer which I have placed on my refrigerator door as a nagging reminder each morning to take a deep breath. Every year after Vacation Bible School, Kate Stapleton hand-writes and hands-out thank you cards to every one of her VBS volunteers. And every year, those volunteers return with a grateful heart and a willingness to serve. These cards, few in words and full in meaning, travel beyond our homes to transform moods and trigger movements of health, healing, and hope. Some of us just seem to possess a natural talent for packaging written words that nourish the soul upon arrival.

Some of us just seem to have an exceptionally difficult time with packaging written words and so avoid it at all costs. Case in Point: Philippians 4: 10-14 (aka: Paul’s ‘Thank You’ note to the Philippians). Paul had many gifts and, mostly likely, multiple vocational possibilities. Creative Director for Hallmark was never one of them. To catch everyone up on just how uncomfortable Paul’s ‘Thank You’ card is to read, let me share with you my modern-day translation as if we were the ones for whom Paul’s card was meant to be received.

Dear Hope United Methodist Church,

I praise God that you have finally decided to care about me again! I understand now that you probably cared the whole time but just never had a chance to show it. Not that I needed you to care or help me out. I am happy with or without your help. I know what it is like to bounce checks and I know what it is like to be able to pay all my bills. Whether you had shown your care or not, I would have been fine because I depend only on Christ who never lets me down. However, it was nice of you to care.

Signed, Your Partner in Ministry, Paul

Now let’s take a vote. Who would like to continue to support this missionary? To date, I believe Paul’s ‘Thank You’ note still holds the Guinness World Record for most-awkward-thank-you-card-ever-written. Obviously, Paul’s intent was not to puff up the Philippians for the most gracious donation to his cause, but to make a statement about the purpose and practice of simplicity in the context of Christian community.

So much of what complicates Christian community can be identified in the way in which we approach the Thank You Card aisle of our lives. At the core of the Thank You Card is the loud, obnoxious reality that at some moment, in some place, for whatever reason, somebody had to do for us something that we could not do for ourselves. This reality introduces a sliding scale of uncomfortable-ness; the least uncomfortable ‘Thank You’ being for something you truly could have done yourself or for something that was nice but not essential to your existence and the most uncomfortable ‘Thank You’ being for something you could have never done for yourself but needed desperately to get done.

There are a plethora of appropriate ‘Thank You’ cards for delivered meals, last minute babysitters, and rides to the doctor’s office. Not so many options to thank someone for the words they spoke that kept the pills out of your stomach and in the bottle, for the morning they bathed you when you couldn’t move your arms, or the night they sat with you when you were surrounded by bars.

This experience of living on the “Thank You’ continuum is called community. Given to us in the form of a wide, open meadow, we have managed to consolidate it into a teeny-tiny tight rope; we just had to squeeze out all the grace and everything fit perfectly into one straight line of self-sufficiency. Unfortunately, what the market study failed to reveal when it sent grace to the recycling bin was that life events tend to throw us off this straight line to the pearly gates almost immediately. And given that everyone in the community has found themselves putting all their focus on staying put, no one notices, let alone has the ability, to truly help anyone else back up. To complicate matters more, it is unlikely, that a person having fallen off and out of this tight-roped community would ever ask for help knowing the likelihood of the helper falling in with them. Falling into debt, into grief, into addiction, into greed, into hopelessness. This ‘stay in line or sink away’ subtext cultivates complexity in community, setting invisible boundaries around when asking for help is brave and when it is a burden. As soon as the tight-rope was put up, just about everyone fell off, and still, we resist to challenge the illusion of being balanced when we wake up to find ourselves laid out flat in the meadow.

Paul’s letter may not make us feel good about what we have given, but it does remind us of what we have received and in doing so, wakes us up to where we stand with each other. Paul’s self-sufficiency – paradoxically – comes from God through his partnership with Philippians. It is not the Philippians gift that Paul celebrates but God’s call upon that community to partner with Paul and their willingness to respond to that invitation. We live in a culture of ‘Thank You’ cards acknowledging birthday gifts or donation checks; Paul’s gratitude seeps behind the confines of the concrete and celebrates the spiritual presence inspiring this partnership of mutual support and love.

Community becomes complicated when we function with the presumption that if we are living right we will be independent of anyone’s help. It distorts our identity and purpose in Christ and isolates us from true connection to one another and true belonging to Christ. Community happens when individuals come together, trusting that God can use their collective brokenness to make whole the world. “There are things that we can do together that we cannot possibly do alone,” Richard Foster writes. “God has so arranged human life that we are dependent upon one another to come into all that he desired for us. We need each other’s help in order to know how to love God. We need each other’s help in order to know how to love our neighbor.”

On Wednesday, Leabeth Pohl forwarded an email to me she had received from Bill Ehmer telling her what a good job she was doing as our new Communications Director. A reminder she needed after slinking into a cycle of self-loathing over an email mishap the week before. On Thursday, sitting in the living room with Sam and Shirley Kelley, it was gratitude for the all the cards that the Bible Basics Class had sent to them that broke the tearful silence surrounding a sacred sharing about the terminal cancer diagnosis Shirley had received.

I have visited hospital rooms with walls and doors lined with the note cards received from family, friends, and church members. I, myself, have a treasure box that holds every note card I have ever received from the Hope Community. Cards of welcome when my family arrived, cards of sympathy when our cat passed away and a year later when our dog had to be put down. Thank you cards for visits, for weddings, for memorials, for messages. Birthday cards and notes just meant to make me laugh during seasons when ministry felt anything but funny.

This past June I found myself at a retreat center in Georgia with a flat tire on my rental car. I was anxious and annoyed. I called the rental agency who agreed to send someone to fix the tire for an outrageous fee but who ended up sending a tow truck to tow away my car with no plan to replace it. After four phone calls and a million transfers to people who were unable to help me, I redirected my anxious energy to sending text messages with snarky commentary about the predicament to my mom and dad. My dad sent me back four words, “Focus. You got this.”

There are times when we receive messages that we had no idea we needed to hear and they cut through all the masks, the cynicism, the insecurities, and make us whole again. Every day, when I feel overwhelmed or inadequate these are the words I hear, “Focus. You got this.” Because we do. This community work of tripping back and forth from the tight-rope to the meadow. Every day is an invitation to allow grace and latitude to mark our relationships. A simple note. A transformational result. A reminder that we were created to need each other.

 Admit Something

By Hafiz

Everyone you see, you say to them,
love me.
Of course you do not do this out loud;
Otherwise,
Someone would call the cops.
Still though, think about this,
this great pull in us
to connect.
Why not become the one
who lives with a full moon in each eye
that is always saying,
with that sweet moon language,
what every other eye in this world
is dying to Hear.

What ‘Thank You’ card sits unwritten on your heart’s sleeve? What words await arrival to this world while hiding behind the well-worn mask of self-sufficiency? Forget the shallow ‘Thank You’ card securely clinging to the complexity innate in the gift of all material things-instead dive deep into the simplicity of connection-articulating thankfulness for connection and the source from which it came. And when the cards have piled up and the words remain stuck somewhere inside the cluttered mounds that make up our minds, just remember to"focus. You got this."