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does this justification come in a size Large?

One of my most vivid memories of my trip to India includes our trip to the Temple on the day the public went, their version of Sunday if you will. It was a very popular temple (for the life of me I don’t know which god we were there to observe), thus it was a crowded affair. The temple was high atop a mountain, the entire journey an upward progression. 

While you were making your way to the inner courts, it was nothing short of a county fair on the path. Booth after booth lined the way, offering garlands and bouquets of flowers or other trinkets you could purchase and then offer as sacrifice when you took your turn inside. I must add, those selling the offerings brought to mind the county fair feel, just as much as the midway setup. 
I understand the roots and how this came about; if traveling from a far, your homegrown offering flowers might get a bit wilty. Or the trinket could break in the rickshaw while en route. So someone thought, I could make these things available at the temple gate, and perhaps even make a buck for the convenience. 
India in 2005 wasn’t much different from Jerusalem in 00. When heading to the Passover Feast, if coming from afar, you’d find a level of difficulty in bringing several goats, sheep, ox and doves. So the locals played to the expedience factor and offered Sacrifices on the Go. And perhaps made a buck for the convenience. 
But Jesus seemed to take issue with the whole process and showed up with whips, driving out the product and spilling the profits. “Stop turning my Father’s house into a shopping mall!” Peterson’s translation says. 
I’m sure commentaries take this in numerous directions, and honestly I haven’t read one of them yet. I lack credentials to offer commentary, only speculation. I wonder what Jesus was so upset about?.. several thoughts come to mind::
1. Did convenience make it possible for people to miss the point regarding sacrifice? So few of the worshippers went out to their own flock and chose their best to offer to God. Instead they just made a quick purchase in the courtyard. I wonder if it’s like the old cash vs. credit card argument – that when you see it leave the wallet, it gets to the heart a bit deeper. But modern conveniences allow sacrifice to simply be a purchase, another bill to pay in order to keep the lights on and the Big Guy happy. 
2. Was it the profiteering? The fact that people, probably Jewish themselves, made their living by shortchanging others’ experience? Even though it was perhaps initiated with good heart and reason. But prospect of profit likely changes the game for everyone involved. 
3. Was it that the focus on stuff took away from the purpose of the gathering? Now it came about having the right stuff as opposed to presenting yourself to your God. Did this sense of cattle-buying play out in how the least-of-these worshipped? Did they simply resist showing up for the festival when they couldn’t buy the right kind of sacrifice? Did the extravagance of some stand in the way of the heart desire of others? 
 
There was more, especially in Jesus’ summary statement about tearing down the temple… pair that with Paul’s comment that we are Temples of the holy spirit… and we have a new sense about sacrifice. But 2 of the 3 children are awake and I need to get them out the door. So I’ll just have to put this on pause for a moment. But before I go: Lenten admission. I bought a t-shirt yesterday. It’s not for me or even my purposes – Husband needed it as a gift for his guest speaker. But I was out and about and it saved a trip (and he’s still hobbling significantly). He offered to get his credit card in order to make the purchase, but I wasn’t sure how that really changed things and didn’t want to be accused of using a stolen card. I don’t feel a lot of guilt in the purchase, but it does go to show difficult to live commerce-free. 

do you suffer from RLS?

According to whatever manual doctors consult (HB, help me here), RLS is now a diagnosable affliction. Which is astounding. Not once have I verbally communicated to my primary care physician about the fact that I’m bored in life. However, I believe myself to be a sufferer of Restless Life Syndrome. 

You know what I mean (I mentioned it the other day), when you start scouring the interwebs for the Next Great Thing, be it a job, a Ph.D. or a craft project. Or even a new haircut. Or outfit. Though my Lent restrictions have kept this pretty non-material. 
Part of the solution might be to STOP READING. I just picked up Radical and frequently play the fool’s part when I raise my hand in steady Amens. This, coming right off the tails of 7. If I were allowed to make the purchase, Barefoot Church would be waiting in the wings (can you believe the library doesn’t have a version for loan? Jen, what can we do about this? And did you notice how I just referred to Jen as if we’re on a first name basis? Well, we ARE facebook friends). 
Most remarkable is how my readings continue to widen the gap between where I am and where I want to be living. We finally have a house fit to host guests, steady jobs, well-behaved kids and the student loans paid off (private schools, may you have a private place in purgatory). Just when I should feel most settled, I’m ready to jump out of my seat at night. Much like the diagnosable RLS, it’s like an itch you can’t scratch, but it’s somewhere in your soul. 
The problem, my friends, isn’t diagnoses. It’s treatment. What do I do about it? I have an impending sense that it has something to do with being a good neighbor and living amid this new neighborhood and all that jazz. But not in a smile and wave kind of way. I believe God wants us to dig in. But as I say in about 84% of situations nowadays: What does that look like? And how do I squeeze that in between naptimes? 
The other looming conundrum: I need a people. A tribe. A support system. Folk who know I’m funny and don’t think I’m weird. That will push me when I need pushed and hold me when I need held. People who remind me I’m not always right and that everyone need not be just like me (oh, can you imagine even if there were more than 5 of me? Implosion. The world would implode due to noise and arm waggling). 
A quick Google Maps search of churches in town yields 39 results. And that doesn’t even branch to the nearby towns, like where the Big Church is. So why is it that I can’t seem to find other bodies of people who suffer RLS tendencies? OR, if they do, why aren’t we talking about what it means to live on a mission, even when it counters the American Dream? 
I’m not giving up on the current Sunday morning situation. But I’m not satisfied. And I know that I need to be, as KLR likes to chide, “part of the solution, not part of the problem” but I’m not sure how to jump in the pool and 3 months later start making waves. I’m pretty sure that it’s clear in the Church Finding Manual that making waves is frowned upon. 

here, try this: you’ll loooooooove this (all for $19.99)

While taking a hiatus from buying, I’m more prone to notice how often someone wants to sell me something. Every morning my inbox fills with at least 15 offers to save money by making a purchase. This is not a new trend for Lent; I’ve received them for some time. However, they have a different feel when you automatically delete without finding out what Zulily has on special that day – you might be missing an amazing deal on snow boots or swimsuits, you know. 

Another place that I’m more aware of being seen as a customer is in the bloggy world. I subscribe to a large number of blogs about everything from education to moms in LA (because my life is SO similar) to food and, especially now, grain-free recipes. I even follow one that tends to be an end-of-the-world-er, but he’s got so much great information on gardening, composting and living self-sufficiently. 
However, most of these bloggers are hopeful to make a buck while they put their time into it, so they have conferences to promote, ebooks to discount, even product giveaways to earn loyalty. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for these writers and small business owners making their living doing what they do; however, I’m aware I’m not just a reader anymore. I’m in the pool of consumers. 
One blog in particular (that I love) is geared toward getting more organized. She provides a lot of helpful information on organizing and gaining control over your life. Yes, she even has an ebook to walk you through it (a new task every week). The reason I really appreciate her, though, is because rarely when she gives direction in an organizational goal does she require that you run out and purchase something. Instead she gives many options of looking at what you currently have and repurposing it to meet another goal. Much of what she suggests has more to do with rearranging habits in your life as opposed to where you put the electric bill. This is in direct opposition of what I find in the home-party sphere. So many of these wonderful companies want the same end goal for customers (a more organized life) but rather than focusing on the skill, they focus on the product. We begin to believe, “if i just buy this, I’ll be better at….”
And we’re quite wired to believe these patterns work. That by owning, shopping, buying, consuming X, our life will change dramatically. This is how commerce in our society keeps moving. And the more I see it, the less I trust it. Right now, the surest way to loose my confidence is to offer to sell me something. You might be right – a change in my life might be needed. But a product is not going to fix it. 
This morning I read God’s words through the prophet Joel: Change your life, not just your clothes. Come back to God, your God.” (2:13, I have no idea whose emphasis – either the Hebrew or Peterson’s). I thought to myself, “if this were written for the younger context it would say, ‘change your life, not just your music’ because so often we place a marker on the shift from secular to Christian music, especially in the life of young people. 
But though music is good, it doesn’t change your life. God’s not selling a new product to try to make life better; he’s looking for a different pattern of life, one that is consumed with the presence of Christ. God doesn’t want the same, slightly improved version of yourself in a gaudy Christianese tshirt. He wants to know that the seed that was planted is growing into a tree that bears the fruit of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, faithfulness and self-control. 
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