Money Matters

We're currently in the most grueling portion of my job: financial aid season.

This is, essentially, the moment of truth.

It consistently shocks me how little I understand of human nature.

Some awards I look at and think, "Oh. Crap. This is a terrible award letter. They were so close to receiving the Pell grant, their parent loan is way too high for their EFC (expected family contribution), etc. They're not going to be able to swing this."

Then it's those same families that call me back so grateful for our department's generosity, determined to make this work, and talk to me about values, about call, and about the feeling of belonging.

I leave those conversations feeling hopeful about what it is I do. I can see a full map of their financial situation, I know the truth. They feel that this is where the Lord is leading them, though, and I can't argue. Granted, I get a little irked when they call me up and tell me that "God told me to go to another college", but I remember very clearly how called I felt to come to this university. It felt right. It felt like home.

Other families, however, make me feel less inspired about human nature.

Sir, I can see how many hundreds of thousands you make a year, how you have a million in investments, and how you have 50-90k in cash savings alone. And only one child. Do not for one second try to make me believe you can only afford 1k a year for your child's education.

And, while those conversations truly annoy me, they say something about a families values.

"It's not God's will for Billy to take any kind of student loan, so we're going to have to find other options through your school." [Read: We're too busy to look for outside scholarships and we don't want loans, so it's your responsibility to pay for his education]. No, ma'am. Budgeting and finances can be really rough and looking for outside scholarships can be tiring, but it is not our responsibility.

"We want to build a house soon, so we won't be helping Suzy with college finances. What other scholarships can you offer her?" [Read: We want a pool more than Suzy's education]

"I know I could save money by living with my parents, but it's just a real burden to have to commute that far, so I need to find other financing options through the university" [Read: Even though I could save 9k a year by living at home, I don't want to drive half an hour. Find me more money somewhere else]

I could go on. I see a lot of goodness in people, but I also see a lot of ugliness. I also see a lot of fear. Some parents I speak with are willing to risk everything because their child loves my school, but they are afraid. Sometimes, it's just close enough to work. Sometimes I have to guide them through the process of redesigning their dreams, deferring them, or awaken a different dream. It's hard.

It truly isn't that I'm coldblooded about financial aid. Believe me, I well remember the agonizing worry that I wouldn't be able to afford this school. But my parents knew and I knew that this was it for me, this was home. They sacrificed and saved and we made it work.

Because at the end of the day, money isn't about money.
Money is about values and about the heart.

And nobody wants a 24 year old girl trying to cast $100,000 vision for their child.

Reimagined Dragons

Tiny humans are the worst.

Not short people, though I'm sure there are some terrible short people, and I don't appreciate it when two heightless people stand on either side of me and talk. I can't hear a dang thing up here in the troposphere. 

I'm talking about small children. 

Walmart/Aldi/Movie Theaters/Parks/Pools just all the things. They're sticky, they scream (oh Lord they scream), and they decide that your approaching car is the perfect moment to run into the street. 

Sometimes, I think, "Parenthood, that sounds like a thing I want in on someday." 

Then I go to the grocery store and see a mom with four tiny monsters running around shrieking like they're being kidnapped because they can't buy a box of sugar-based breakfast food (because they need more energy reserves) and bless God for my current celibacy. 

After my most recent run-in (run from) involving the small jam-covered ones, I decided to re-brand them. 

You know what I think are cute? Dragons. They're adorable. Have you ever seen "Dragon Tales" or "How to Train Your Dragon"? Just the cutest. Baby dragons are all bumping around, accidentally breathing fire, shrieky, and clumsy. Precious. 

Since then, I've started pretending that horrible little children are just baby dragons, and they have become so much more tolerable to me. 

Sometimes, it takes a change of perspective. 

You'll never catch those grammar errors in your paper, you've been looking too long. Change the font and try again. 

You never noticed the homeless people in your own city before but change the venue and they're everywhere. 

It's easier, I think, to notice and to have compassion for that which we have had little exposure to, like the irony in "The Help" where the white women are raising money for the starving children in Africa but neglect to recognize as barely even human the black folk who serve them. 

It isn't right, and it isn't fair, but you may not even recognize the disparity in your thinking. That doesn't give you an excuse, but it does help give some context to what may appear to others as hypocritical. 

I know my baby dragon theory is fanciful and silly, but occasionally, re-branding the familiar (even to whimsical levels) can help you appreciate or "see" just a little bit more clearly. 

Ear-Splitting Offspring: When Faith Fails

Last week in Bible study, we talked about the 400 year period of time in which God was silent with his people.

Silent.

Have you ever gone through a period of your life in which you felt the absence of God's voice?

Do you feel as though maybe you've never heard his voice at all?

Then you know the confusion/doubt/anxiety/stress/hurt that comes along with hearing nothing.

Looking back through the histories, we see the way in which God worked it all out for his glory, his good (Oh Jeremiah 29:11, how you plague me), but that is a very long time.

My question back to my bible study leader was this: "How did Christianity survive?"

His answer made sense to me, but I am still pretty cynical about the whole thing.

Christianity survived because there were those who kept up, with obedience and faith, the practices of the church.

But for 400 years?

Of COURSE there were Pharisees by the time Jesus came around, and how could we blame them? They had centuries of works with no relationship to spur them on. Eventually, yah, wouldn't that lead you to legalism?

They explained this as well by telling me that there were both Pharisees as well as those still truly filled with hope, holding fast to the assurances of the scriptures.

They kept up their faith on a promise, though they didn't have firsthand knowledge of the content of that promise.

Once, when I was in Belfast, I met an ex-Christian. It was a rough day, and I was in no mood for a fight, but maybe I needed to have that semi-fight.

In the midst of him telling me how silly I was to believe in a God and questioning why I would, I told him that sometimes, you just need to. Not out of compulsion but because, sometimes, you need the lifeline possibility that there is a reason for:pain/suffering/death/divorce.

That “sometimes” introduction can be the beginning of a really beautiful thing. Not every relationship has a book-worthy beginning. Jesus doesn’t really care how we come to him, though. He cares that we come at all.

What happens when faith fails, though?

What should our response be in the times that suddenly everything feels false, where prayer feels one-sided, when we ask for a sign/answer/direction and receive nothing?

I don’t know.

In times I have felt that way, I have continued to pursue all options on the hope and determination that God will start shutting doors if I just start moving forward. 
But what if all the doors open.
Or all the doors close.
What then?

Should I assume that the answers are all around me already if only I would sift through my own perceptions and bias to see them?
Should I assume God will bless wherever I choose?
Should I assume that the correct doorway has yet to appear?

When faith fails...it's time to redefine faith. Or, rather, to give thought to the definition of faith.

Faith: noun: complete trust or confidence in someone or something. 

Complete trust or confidence. 
Man, I think the last time I had complete trust or confidence in someone was before I was aware enough to realize what I was doing. 

As a baby, you may not consciously decide to put all your cards of faith in with your parents but, given your behavioral responses to them, it is evident that you do. 

As babies, when we get hungry or are afraid, we cry. 
If we did not anticipate a response of food or comfort, we would not cry. 
Because we trust in the goodness and consistency of our parents, though, we know intrinsically that our tears will bring them immediately to our side. And, if not immediately, we know they will be there as soon as humanly possible, if only we will hold out for them. 
The times our parents don't come are when they understand their children's tears enough to know when a response is not required, when it would ultimately serve their child best to self-sooth, even if it kills mom and dad to hear them wailing. 

Maybe that's how it is with God. 
Maybe he hears us cry and knows its time for self-soothing, to be empowered with the training he has already given us to reach our own conclusions. 

For now, then, that's how I'll answer. When God seems silent, my spirit should reflect and turn quiet as well, looking, watching, and waiting for something I may not otherwise be able to perceive in my hysteria. 

The Israelites cultured a spirit of faith, fed with promises, to sustain them. 
Then, as he said that he would, their father, Jesus, came to soothe, save, and sanctify.