The Price of a $14 Car

On a recent trip, Nancy and I needed to rent a car. We were surprised to find a place that offered one for just $14 a day. The deal sounded great so we booked it. What we didn't realize was, while most of the name brand dealers were there at the airport, ours was not. We had to call a shuttle. 

After a few minute wait, the shuttle driver showed up and we, along with all the folks waiting with us, jockeyed to get on. You know the drill, everyone trying to be polite enough not to seem rude, but aggressive enough not to be the one left at the airport. 

Happily, we all got on and began our drive. The family that got on with us began talking about their plans for the week and the guy next to me began to tell me his life story. His was a tale of woe, I can't begin to unpack here.

About five minutes into the drive someone said, "Where the heck are we going?" Other's began to chime in, "How far is this place?" "Where is the driver taking us?" "I hope we're not being abducted!"

And there it was. The magic threshold. When the value of a cheep car is surpassed by the length of the journey to the lot. Five minutes. 

I'm increasingly struck by our ability to whine. I whine about everything. The line is too long. I always get in the slow line. Why is the price of gas going up? Why is this taking so long? Why doesn't the guy show up on time? Why don't I get an upgrade? Why does it take six minutes to get to my $14 car?

When Paul told us to rejoice always and be thankful in all circumstances was he really talking about the arduous journey in a rental van? Seriously?! It was six minutes! 

Listen. I'm not a advocate of glossing over painful circumstances. However I do wonder about our definition of pain. Inconvenience isn't suffering. A loss of privilege isn't persecution.

How much we enjoy the world around us many times has more to do with our attitude than our environment. One of those things we can't control. We are the only ones who can control the other. 

Words We Call Ourselves

As I left work the other day, my friend Jenn said, "Wait a minute, your backpack is open," then she came over and closed it up. I sheepishly replied, "Oh. Thanks. Beth normally does that."

The fact that I can identify a person who zips up my backpack as I walk by her office, is pretty humiliating. I ride a motorcycle for crying out loud. I can't go zipping down the street with stuff flying out the back. What am I, 8?

I have some issues with attention to detail and follow through. So, when things like this happen, a word from my childhood comes crashing in on me, "Irresponsible."

You know those words. We all have them. They're the one's we call ourselves when we blow it... again. We heard them from parents, teachers, friends, well meaning people, trying to help us grow. We heard them with enough frequency we grew to accept them as the truth of who we are. Now we are our own accusers, defining ourselves by our limitations.

If we allow we allow ourselves to fixate on them, they become an overpowering, depressive self image.

Fortunately, I work with some great people and have an amazing wife. And they helped me learn a couple of things. The first is, they usually don't mind covering for my weaknesses. They kind of all have this "Jeff needs help," understanding.

The second thing is, they need help too. Do you know there are people who have no idea how to read a room? They can melt people's faces off in a meeting, then leave thinking, "That was a good talk!" Then I have to say, "Dude, you're backpack is open" and explain why he might want to have some followup conversations.

We all have weaknesses. We should know them so, in humility, we can acknowledge our need for help. We should do the same with our strengths, never minimizing how God created us. Accepting them can sometimes be difficult. But when we do, we are released to thrive in our gifting.

Meanwhile, we can work on our weaknesses. The day after Jenn helped me, I packed up to head home and carefully checked my backpack to make sure everything was closed up tightly. I was pretty proud of myself. I made it all the way to the stairs before I realized my wallet and keys were still in my office. Baby steps. Baby steps.

Wrong. But not Uncertain.

I was talking to a friend the other day when he said, "Oh, I've been wrong. But I'm never uncertain." It was pretty funny. And I think it explains how most of us operate.

I wonder what our world would be like if we could only talk, post and tweet about subjects we actually knew about. I don't mean things we've seen on the news or articles we've read on all of those "reliable" websites.

I mean, subjects we have actually studied. Let's set a pretty low bar. One hour. How different would our world be if we only engaged others when we had researched a subject for one hour.

How would life be different if someone asked, "What are your thoughts about global warming?" and we said, "I don't know."

We've all seen the news about it. We've probably read articles about it from whatever bent we lean toward. It's either a disaster or a non issue, because that's what someone, who shares our preconceived ideas, told us to think about it. How many of us have actually dug into the research?

The crisis in Syria, ISIS, migrants into Europe, Muslims, the national debt, immigration, election reform, inequity in the economy, raising the hourly wage, the future president of the United States. Everyone seems to be an authority on all of this stuff.

Most of us, myself included, should simply be saying, "I don't know."

These are important issues. Issues we should care about and debate. The problem is, we seem to care more about being heard, than understanding the subject matter.

I need to study more and speak less. Read about it, think about it and even pray about it, before I offer an opinion mostly based on emotion.

These are complicated issues with even more complex solutions. I can not formulate an informed solution after reading the first five paragraphs of an article on CNN. But we all seem to have them.

I need to have fewer opinions. I need to be more thoughtful. I need to have the humility to say, "I don't know."