life on the fence: it could be worse

we're in the middle of a financial sermon series at church. most of these types of series are pretty standard - spend less, save more, give more, be good stewards, yada yada. they always end up sometime in october as well, presumably because churches are trying to budget for the next fiscal year and need to remind people about the importance of faithfulness heading into that budgeting season. still, i like these types of series. there's something very practical about the application of biblical financial principals that i find helpful.

toward the end of sunday's sermon, pastor adam challenged us to be content. he suggested that whenever we find ourselves discontent we should just remind ourselves that it could be worse.

"it could be worse."

yes, i'm buying the malt-o-meal brand of bagged cereals (something i said i wouldn't do after growing up on the off brand cereal and envying those kids whose families indulged on the toy-in-the-box, fanciful cartoon mascot, sugary delights that kellogg's pushed). but, it could be worse. i could be staring at cupboards that are empty and reflective of an empty, growling stomach.

yes, we're renting a duplex though i'm desperate to own my own house, but it could be worse. i could be living out of my car or in some homeless shelter.

yes, i find myself disliking the 6:00 alarm that goes off, prompting me to get my lazy rear out of bed and spend some time on the treadmill, but it could be worse. i could be laid up in some hospital, wishing i could get up and walk around.

yes, i find myself sometimes daydreaming about the lottery and what i would do with all that money, wishing i could indulge my true interests rather than spending 40 hours at a job i'm underpaid for, but it could be worse. at least i have a job (and one that i like pretty well at that) that provides for all of our needs and allows chris to focus on finishing up his degree.

it's amazing how just dwelling on what you do have instead of what you don't can change your discontentment into a sense of blessing and gratitude.

i also found myself wondering at what point can you no longer say "it could be worse." at some point there has to be a bottom. what is that point? is it the child in sudan making his way to a refugee camp after seeing his entire village slaughtered? is it the father/husband who is the lone survivor of a car crash that took his wife and two kids? is it the vivacious career woman who hears her doctor say the words terminal cancer? where is that barometer? does it change according to the person or is there a universal standard for the absolute lowest a person can get?