Everyone had some great contributions on the matter, but there can only be one correct answer for test taking purposes. So, the quick answer to the pop quiz is: What Would Jesus Think?

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.

For those of you interested in my long answer, however, here it is: Someone accused me of reductionistic excess, and in the spirit of ecumenicalism, I have to agree and disagree on that point.

Stay with me…

Some of you argue that being is doing, and doing is being, and why can’t we stop the semantic wars and just get on with it?! The reason I think this is worth quibbling about is that when we don’t exhaust the matter, we often end up with “Bono Christianity” on one end (doing without being) and proverbial Presbyterians on the other (being without much doing).

In the above text, Paul instructs us to “have this mind” which resulted ultimately in Christ’s obedience to the point of death on a cross.

Semantics, schmamantics… Thank you all for your thoughtful discussion; it’s truly been profitable to me. I hope we’ve all grown a little more in the grace and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. Lovely parting gifts to all.

Pondering, talking, and debating the good and simple life has been the topic de jour between my husband and me. It’s not just because of the series going on at this site. We go round and round, like we have nothing better to do than chase our tails.

The problem began with me when I was in high school. I wanted to be Amish. Now, this is a topic psychologists could have a hayday with if I believed enough in their work to let them within two feet of me. (Whenever I think I might need some back-therapy, I tune in for a few minutes to Dr. Laura and am quickly reminded that I’m OK—and you’re OK—and so I return to regular life, grateful for my lesser sin of harboring Amish fetishes.) Around the age of 16, I began stockpiling Amish dress patterns, catalogs, and books about the simple life. I even sewed up a few of those dresses. In calico prints, of course. I didn’t want to look too weird, you know.

I don’t make this stuff up.

The problem with my love affair of the Amish is that it was all romance and no grit. Just like a 20-year-old bride who gets married with nothing but stars in her eyes. When the babies begin arriving, the money gets low, and the in-laws start a peckin’, well, that’s when grits show up on the breakfast menu. I remember an older mother telling me, “Marriage is NOT romantic,” and it shattered, crushed, and sent a 16-year-old idealist into a tailspin. Where was I to go from here?

I think I watched Anne of Avonlea too many times.

For years I mistakenly romanticized the simple life, and now that I’m trying to live it, I have a few hang-ups to overcome. I thought if I pursued simplicity, then I’d be picking daffodils in rolling fields every afternoon.

But I harbor markings of this age, and even better, I live in America: home of the “obey your thirst” mantra. I’ve bought into a microwave view of life, and I’ve even been guilty of pushing a “power minute” prayer button a time or two. I’m an economist to a fault—why bake your own whole-wheat bread when you can buy white-processed on sale with a coupon? So, for the sake of ease, I exchange what is good.

I want the “good life.” I do. And while I don’t enjoy eating grits, I’ll do it if I can pick daffodils afterward.

< ?php if (have_posts()) : ?>

Archive for < ?php the_category(); ?>

< ?php while (have_posts()) : the_post(); ?>