Yesterday, I was talking to a friend about a situation he was in
where someone he knew and trusted asked for $100. He was torn up about
it, and didn't know what to do or how to do it.
We talked about how loans are toxic, and how when we give loans we end up hurting ourselves because we're full of these expectation of the other person to pay us back.
And then
a month passes
and two months
and a year
and ten years
And we're still pissed off at our college roommate for not paying us back the $35 that we loaned to him so he could pay his share of the electricity bill.
And we end up deciding that we're never going to loan money again because we don't want it to end up like the last time. And we become hoarders of money, investors in our own futures, all for the sake of protecting our investments, but really based off the fear of that ever happening again.
But after all these years, we never even bothered to question our own affinity to loan money to other people. We never stopped to even think about the possibilities of giving gifts.
As I was doing my taxes this year, I gave myself a little pat on the back as I scrolled down my bank account earmarked with lines of financial gifts - from packs of cigarettes for my homeless friends to oil changes for friends who were jobless. In all, I'd given more last year than I ever had. I made it over the 20% mark in giving for the first time, and it felt great. It made me want to do more.
But, usually the self-applied pats on the back come with a string attached. It wasn't as hopeful as I thought it was.
And the truth was right around the corner.
I woke up one morning to find a handwritten letter from a friend of mine asking for money . . . again.
Immediately, I tore the sheet out of the notebook and started making a list of all the conditions he would need to meet in order to receive this money. I felt justified and right about it. Then, realizing how silly I was being, I wadded the paper up and threw it away. I wrote that he could have the money, but the insanity going on between my ears didn't get thrown away with the paper.
I went to work insane. And left work insane. And went throughout the day insane. And went back home insane.
And then I saw my friend. I was ready to pounce on him like a fox watching a rabbit, hungry for a kill. It only took a couple of minutes before all the conditions I wrote down on that wadded piece of paper came spewing from my lips. My anger burned, my voice rose, and I lost it.
I couldn't sleep that night and couldn't think straight. All I could think about was how I deserved better. It was his fault.
The next morning, I couldn't even remember what I or he said. All I could see was my wrongdoing. And what was it?
Although I'd given financial gifts numerous times to my friend, they all had strings attached. They were heart strings.
It's easy to say that we don't expect anything back, whether it's a gift of time or money or stuff.
But do our hearts say the same thing?
I ended up doing some intensive work on my resentment and fear in the situation, and came to the conclusion that I'd been giving out loans all along. There was always some form of expectation tied to my generosity. I expected the other person to do something for me, or to change, or to meet some made up rules in my head.
And when I didn't see those changes, I would try to make the rules even stricter. Except, I would never verbalize them, because that would make me look like an asshole.
I would keep them inside, for me to know only.
A few days later I went back to this person to make amends. I had extracted twenty (yes, twenty) fears and flaws in myself, and listed all the ways I'd wronged my friend. All these wrongs had stemmed from thing: I gave with strings attached, even though I verbalized it as a gift.
When we give, do we do it without strings? Or do we have all these past experiences and fears that fill our heads every time someone needs something we have? Do we secretly expect the recipient of our gifts to change in some way, or to pay us back somehow?
Some questions come up:
How do we know that we are giving with no strings attached?
A couple things. One, we realize that the recipient of our gift(s) is actually helping us just as much, if not more, as we're helping them.
When people need help, they're actually opening up a door for us in the way of growth. We get to give, and when we give, we're making an outward sign of an inward commitment to trust God.
Another question:
What's a practical way to "let go" of the gifts we give?
Pray. And, if that doesn't work, call a friend and talk it over. Get a referee. Then, give the gift. Chances are, the little time spent praying and talking it over will eradicate the strings that were connected to the good deed.
It's easy to talk a big game when it comes to giving, but making sure there are no strings attached is another story. If we're to experience peace in our giving, then we have to make sure that we're not giving out loans.
Is the love we give out actually a loan? Are the random acts of kindness we do for someone filled with expectation? Are we giving gifts, but inwardly treating them as loans?
Today's Action: Someone is going to want something from us today. Are we willing to match the request with a peaceful, stringless gift that expects nothing in return? Create a practice that will ensure that our giving is not tied to a litany of expectations, so we don't have to create any more chaos in our heads than is already there.
We talked about how loans are toxic, and how when we give loans we end up hurting ourselves because we're full of these expectation of the other person to pay us back.
And then
a month passes
and two months
and a year
and ten years
And we're still pissed off at our college roommate for not paying us back the $35 that we loaned to him so he could pay his share of the electricity bill.
And we end up deciding that we're never going to loan money again because we don't want it to end up like the last time. And we become hoarders of money, investors in our own futures, all for the sake of protecting our investments, but really based off the fear of that ever happening again.
But after all these years, we never even bothered to question our own affinity to loan money to other people. We never stopped to even think about the possibilities of giving gifts.
As I was doing my taxes this year, I gave myself a little pat on the back as I scrolled down my bank account earmarked with lines of financial gifts - from packs of cigarettes for my homeless friends to oil changes for friends who were jobless. In all, I'd given more last year than I ever had. I made it over the 20% mark in giving for the first time, and it felt great. It made me want to do more.
But, usually the self-applied pats on the back come with a string attached. It wasn't as hopeful as I thought it was.
And the truth was right around the corner.
I woke up one morning to find a handwritten letter from a friend of mine asking for money . . . again.
Immediately, I tore the sheet out of the notebook and started making a list of all the conditions he would need to meet in order to receive this money. I felt justified and right about it. Then, realizing how silly I was being, I wadded the paper up and threw it away. I wrote that he could have the money, but the insanity going on between my ears didn't get thrown away with the paper.
I went to work insane. And left work insane. And went throughout the day insane. And went back home insane.
And then I saw my friend. I was ready to pounce on him like a fox watching a rabbit, hungry for a kill. It only took a couple of minutes before all the conditions I wrote down on that wadded piece of paper came spewing from my lips. My anger burned, my voice rose, and I lost it.
I couldn't sleep that night and couldn't think straight. All I could think about was how I deserved better. It was his fault.
The next morning, I couldn't even remember what I or he said. All I could see was my wrongdoing. And what was it?
Although I'd given financial gifts numerous times to my friend, they all had strings attached. They were heart strings.
It's easy to say that we don't expect anything back, whether it's a gift of time or money or stuff.
But do our hearts say the same thing?
I ended up doing some intensive work on my resentment and fear in the situation, and came to the conclusion that I'd been giving out loans all along. There was always some form of expectation tied to my generosity. I expected the other person to do something for me, or to change, or to meet some made up rules in my head.
And when I didn't see those changes, I would try to make the rules even stricter. Except, I would never verbalize them, because that would make me look like an asshole.
I would keep them inside, for me to know only.
A few days later I went back to this person to make amends. I had extracted twenty (yes, twenty) fears and flaws in myself, and listed all the ways I'd wronged my friend. All these wrongs had stemmed from thing: I gave with strings attached, even though I verbalized it as a gift.
When we give, do we do it without strings? Or do we have all these past experiences and fears that fill our heads every time someone needs something we have? Do we secretly expect the recipient of our gifts to change in some way, or to pay us back somehow?
Some questions come up:
How do we know that we are giving with no strings attached?
A couple things. One, we realize that the recipient of our gift(s) is actually helping us just as much, if not more, as we're helping them.
When people need help, they're actually opening up a door for us in the way of growth. We get to give, and when we give, we're making an outward sign of an inward commitment to trust God.
Another question:
What's a practical way to "let go" of the gifts we give?
Pray. And, if that doesn't work, call a friend and talk it over. Get a referee. Then, give the gift. Chances are, the little time spent praying and talking it over will eradicate the strings that were connected to the good deed.
It's easy to talk a big game when it comes to giving, but making sure there are no strings attached is another story. If we're to experience peace in our giving, then we have to make sure that we're not giving out loans.
Is the love we give out actually a loan? Are the random acts of kindness we do for someone filled with expectation? Are we giving gifts, but inwardly treating them as loans?
Today's Action: Someone is going to want something from us today. Are we willing to match the request with a peaceful, stringless gift that expects nothing in return? Create a practice that will ensure that our giving is not tied to a litany of expectations, so we don't have to create any more chaos in our heads than is already there.
No comments:
Post a Comment