A Fridge Full of Wisdom

A friend of mine has placed the core truths on which their family is built on their refrigerator. Like most families, everyone in the house passes by the refrigerator dozens of times each day. As they pass, there in dry erase marker is what they believe and value. The list does not change. In the ebb and flow of family life, in the celebrations and fights and laughter and love and frustration, a few key phrases written out serve to remind everyone there that this is who we are.

I was speaking to someone else recently, someone whose family was going through a major occupational change. They chose the change, chose it for good reasons, and now were dealing with the losses associated with that decision. They seemed to be drowning in that loss. A decision they made that they believed in was now clouded by their feelings. I understand what they are dealing with. When Emily and I decided to leave Nebraska, it was the wisest and most rational decision based on the goals we had for our family. We made the decision and were confident in it; but in the final weeks before we left, we realized just how much we had there. We felt the stings of many farewells to people who still mean a lot to us to this day. Saying goodbye was brutal. But we knew why we were doing it. And we had to keep reminding ourselves of that in the midst of the mourning.

In the first century the apostle Paul was in Rome, in prison, with death imminent, and he wrote a passionate letter to his friend and younger coworker Timothy to encourage him. Typically it is the imprisoned who need encouraging, but Paul had a different perspective. He had more to give, more words of wisdom and support and encouragement, and he pours himself out in this letter. It's a fascinating letter when considering this is essentially the last letter to a close friend, a farewell of sorts, and that Paul must write it under the circumstances in which he finds himself.

Eventually in the letter Paul gives a profound reflection on his circumstances: he is "bound with chains as a criminal. But the word of God is not bound! Therefore I endure everything . . ."

Paul will not allow his situation to define him. Being "bound with chains" is where he is but not who he is. More importantly, he will not allow his situation to define God. There is nothing more true and more important to him that the reality of God's grace and his responsibility to spread the hope and salvation provided by that grace. And he refuses to allow his situation to limit God. Paul understands that the power of the gospel is unchanging, regardless of where he is and how he feels.

It is so easy to make this mistake. We allow our situation and our feelings to create reality for us, rather than what we say we believe is true. But we have to fight that. A little anger and frustration does not change the fact that service and sacrifice bring us great joy and purpose. The folly of politicians should not make us forget that we live in a great country that we are responsible to for more than exasperated complaints. Fatigue does not decrease the importance of our values and desires, and we should not let it allow us to push them off for another day. A loss of job does not change your value. A fight does not change the treasure that is your spouse. A day filled with disobedience and constant mess should not diminish the immense gratitude for our children, the same gratitude felt on the day of their birth. It might be gratitude through gritted teeth, but gratitude nonetheless.

Life and circumstance change us, but they do not change truth. That's why it's so important to constantly repeat the core truths that we believe, whether those core truths are founded on the gospel of Christ or not. Whatever is true, we must speak it to ourselves and to those who share those convictions. Because our chains, our feelings, our limitations, and our circumstances will blow us back and forth and turn us upside down and threaten to crush us at times, and we will need to be tethered to the foundation of who we are and why we do what we do.

In one of my favorite poems that I teach to my AP students, A. E. Housman writes that

"Therefore, since the world has still
Much good, but much less good than ill,
And while the sun and moon endure
Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, 
I'd face it as a wise man would,
And train for ill and not for good."

So we must train. And we train through repetition. We need teachers and coaches and mentors in our lives speaking wisdom through experience when we struggle. We need dinners and stories with friends that remind us of what really matters, matters more than our comfort, more than our job, more than our last argument, more than our to-do list. Christians, we need the repetition and unity of the Bible. We all need those words on the fridge, reminding us one snack or drink at a time, who and what we most hold dear.