Year: 2013 (Page 16 of 37)

When everyone is not the competition: thoughts on #peacemaking

While I was busy over the summer having a baby, my town prepared for an influx of thousands of people as the Gentlemen of the Road music festival seized it. One of my clients sat poised to make the most profit in a singular weekend in the history of their 10+ year business. As much as I tried to be useful and effective, I was not the person to make their dreams come true. 

So their resource for building websites and creating their print marketing materials worked with them to re-image and re-brand and position them for the big weekend. Part of this included an element of what I had been providing to them for nearly a year in terms of social support. 
At first I was hurt. And a bit scared. And self-conscious. Were they not happy? Did they not believe in me? But I took myself out of the equation and realized: they needed something I could not provide. So they found it. Actually, it had a lot less to do with me than I believed it to be. 
I met the woman who had helped them with the big campaign. It would have been easy to cast her the villain, the competition, to play the “I can do anything you can do better” game. But I decided that she wasn’t the competition. She was someone doing her job, and doing it well. She was a partner in making one of my clients very successful. Of course our skills overlap, but I don’t do a large chunk of what she does. And she doesn’t do what I do at the ground level. We’re the same. But we’re not. 
When I took this other woman out of the role of the adversary, I suddenly lived with a much greater sense of peace. I didn’t hide my head to the fact that my clients could decide to cut my services to use her, but I realized it’s because she has something to offer that I don’t (namely, photography and website building). She’s not the enemy, she’s simply doing a good job.  
I began to wonder what it would look like if we stopped assuming that everyone was the competition. I know all the business-driven people will object to my line of thinking, but I don’t really come to the world with an eye for business, but rather an eye for the holy. I need to make a living, but that’s not my purpose, so it’s not what drives me. (My husband and my father probably just face-palmed to that one. Sorry.)
I mean it. What if we stopped looking at everyone as competition and began to appreciate what they had to offer? When this woman began to be the person building my clients a beautiful website and providing beautiful photographs, then we were suddenly partners in building and serving a client. The greater good was served. 
Today of all days begs me to ask what it means to be a peacemaker. How do we seek peace? As we reflect on our feelings of being attacked while we (as a country) contemplate action in Syria and beg for peace and other alternatives, I have to wonder at a much deeper level what it means to seek peace in my life and in the world. 
 
I don’t believe seeking peace means falsely admitting wrongs. I don’t believe it means “taking it” like a pansy. I also don’t believe it means living poised for retaliation, ready to defend any and all wrongs for the sake of being right. 
The more I think about it, I believe it means living in a posture that sees people – all people, even those we disagree with and don’t enjoy – as people. Humans. Who are trying to do the best with what they have. Humans who, like myself, aren’t perfect. And maybe in their imperfection, they too forgot to see me as human. 
We forget that, at the root of it all, she or he is made from the same dust. We spin around on a shared orb, needing the same sun and moon to shine to keep us alive. We don’t have to assume someone else’s success and good fortune came at the cost of my own; at the same time, we need to live in question if our own good fortune is coming at the cost of someone else. We don’t have to live in competition with everyone we meet. 
So what does this look like? Not just in foreign relations politics, not just in business, but in our daily lives? It means realizing my husband had a tough day at work while I served the homefront. It’s not a competition for who had the tougher day. It’s realizing Miss M isn’t trying to be difficult, she just feels sick. It’s seeing the well-dressed and beautiful moms at preschool pick up and not deciding that they have it all together, that their finances are in order and they would get the asking price on their house while I pull my sick kids away from the TV and put them in the car in their pajamas because it’s the only means of functioning. It means not assuming the buyers on our house won’t bargain because they want to take advantage of us. 
I think peacemaking means giving what I need the most: just a little bit of grace to make it through this moment. 
***
It’s obvious what kind of life develops out of trying to get your own way all the time: repetitive, loveless, cheap sex; a stinking accumulations of mental and emotional garbage; frenzied and joyless grabs for happiness; trinket gods; magic show religion; paranoid loneliness; cutthroat competition; all-consuming-yet-never-satisfied wants; a brutal temper; an impotence to love or be loved; divided homes and divided lives; small-minded and lopsided pursuits; the vicious habit of depersonalizing everyone into  a rival; uncontrolled and uncontrollable addictions; ugly parodies of community. I could go on. 

But what happens when we live God’s way? he brings gifts into our lives, much the same way fruit appears in an orchard – things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely. 
Galatians 5:19-23, The Message

Level 3 Thinking

I’m newly addicted to writer G over at Momastery (I know, I’m slow to the game. It’s like skinny jeans. I refused to join in when I saw it was popular to see if it was a fad or not;  now that it’s a staple, I feel like I’m finally part of the cool crowd again). So, now that G and I have reached some sort of “where have you been all my life” moment, of course she revolutionized my way of thinking. 

This post on the 3 levels has resurfaced in my thoughts time and time again. While I realized that the way people spoke about things and people tends to reveal a bit about both their character, I had not given it full range of motion in to maturity. But G’s therapist, to whom I now feel I owe a co-pay, hits it on the head. Some people never move out of Level 2 thinking. But those that I love to be around: all 3s. I just don’t have the energy for 2’s like I used to. 
I began to think not only about myself (and general lack of maturity based on this evaluation), but also how it applied to my spiritual self. I see the development of individuals as they navigate the course of faith-life looking similar. After the newness, the initial mountain-top, we hit a valley and allllll is wronnnnnng. With everything. Excuse me for a brief panic attack as I mentally re-live my 20s. 
But then the good ones coast into Level 3. When you can brush off all the shortcomings. The little old ladies who were previously so “out of touch” and “overprotective of their social meetings” are suddenly retired warriors from battles you’re currently fighting. 
I believe I’m starting to come into Level 3 thinking, at least in terms of my faith life. Goodness lies at the heart all of these efforts, of that I’m confident. 
Just don’t ask me to take the same position about things like Walmart, Big Pharma or Monsanto. I’m still in process. 

What if we care more about sin than Jesus does?

I’m sorry, religious folk. I’m about to ask some dangerous questions. Thankfully I have a God who is patient with those learning and seeking and living inside of wonder. 

If I’m spiritually starving for anything right now, it’s the knowledge of the “Kingdom of God.” This place of which Jesus speaks, using all these word-riddles to describe it because, apparently, a dictionary definition doesn’t exist. So I went through the first part of the Gospel of Matthew, specifically the 13th chapter, to get a picture. All these parables like colors, individually make a confusing monochromatic sketch, but when layered upon one another, they reveal a rich portrait. 
Jesus says the Kingdom is seed sown. But then he completely confuses all farmers in the audience because he said the seed is sown EVERYWHERE. In rocks, on the road, in the weeds. Any good farmer would ask, “why waste the seed?” but not Jesus. He’s a rich farmer and he’ll toss seed everywhere. Something might grow. And anything that grows will be worth the price of the seed. 
Then he says the Kingdom is the field with bunches of good crops growing. But in the middle of the night the enemy plants weeds. And it grows, too. Do we start weeding right now? the farmhands say. Nope, Farmer Jesus says. Let it grow. It will sort itself out in the end. You might mistake a weed for a good plant.  
Farmer Jesus tells us about the seed. It’s mustard. Teeny-tiny, eensy-weensy mustard. But plant it and it’s bigger than anything else that will grow. 
Now, says Jesus, things about that field are about to get crazy. You see, you stumble into a treasure. You find this chest of goodies. But you don’t go get your money and buy this small square in the middle of a large plain. No, no. You buy the whole daggone field. And this is not about real estate ethics. It’s about knowing the worth. Who cares if the whole rest of the field sits vacant and grows weeds. The treasure you found is worth the price of the field. 
And now that you have this treasure, it’s time to go shopping. Jewelry shopping. Pearl shopping. We’ll sell it all to find that one thing of sheer beauty. It’s worth sorting through the imitations to find the real thing. 
Over and over Jesus admits to the weeds, the emptiness, the uselessness of places. He knows about the work of sorting. But over and over again, he suggests that the treasure found within the mess is worth it.  
What if He feels that way about people, too? What if this Kingdom-thing is about people? 
What if Jesus says, “Sure. You’ve got a bit of dirt on you. But dig around. I promise, there’s treasure in there. How do I know? Because I planted it. Everywhere. There has to be some growing because there’s not a part of the world I didn’t plant it.” 
Now I look at Jesus, all his preaching and his teaching. I look at his audiences and how he treated them and what he said to them. If he ever talked about sin, it was to the religious folk. Those paranoid with the rest of the field. What if a weed grows? What can we spray on that to keep weeds from growing? 
But Jesus looks at “the least of these” and points and says, “treasure.” Those that society believed were unworthy, those that bore stigma as a result of assumed sin, Jesus comes to them and says “what a beautiful pearl.” I’ll buy that
In my survey of scripture, I see Jesus taking the emphasis off sin and onto the goodness that God had created. Sure, he’ll tell the woman, “go and sin no more.” Don’t plant more weeds. Weeds come with a field, that’s just the way the ground works thanks to the tree we chose and some fruit. 
Instead, plant goodness. Take those teeny-tiny, eensy-weensy mustard seeds and plant those. Oh, it may seem senseless. In fact, they’re so small you wonder why you’re tossing them about at all. Does it matter if I smile? Does this bit of patience with my child really pay off? Does a second chance, a moment of forgiveness for a friend – will it do anything in the scheme of life? 
Ah, but my child, yes. Those will grow into the biggest trees you’ll ever see in your life. Everyone will come for shade, to be refreshed. Friends and strangers flock to it for rest. 
BUT WHAT ABOUT ALL THE WEEDS? we keep asking. Who will purchase a weed-filled field? Jesus will. With a cross. With his life. With everything He has. 
Stop your pre-occupation with weeds. Just plant mustard. Everywhere. Even among the weeds. 
« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2026 Michele Minehart

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑