Not a day that goes by that I don’t wonder if I chose the wrong profession. Friends who went to graduate school for disciplines other than theology—law, business, or medicine—pull in six figures; their lifestyles make me a bit envious. I heard a story on the radio recently of a CEO who makes $13,000 an hour (not, it turns out, an unusual CEO pay rate) and my first thought was, “I’m young … I could still do that.”
I stared at the headline for a while in mute silence: “Austrian police say up to 50 migrants’ bodies found in truck.”It’s the kind of headline that you read and think, “Whatever awful realities will unfold underneath those words, they surely shouldn’t be nicely filed there on the side bar of a website, right underneath news of Celine Dion returning to perform in Las Vegas or Apple’s latest “media event” or the latest round of lies promises being served up by politicians on the election trail today. They shouldn’t be nicely filed anywhere.
I’m re-reading Man’s Search for Meaning. The last time I read it was when I was in seminary. I skimmed it for a course. It had a profound effect on me then, but it’s been good to soak it in this time around.
In my much younger years, I remember having heated arguments with my parents about money—but not the kind of arguments you might expect. My parents tried to train us to have good money sense, which included talking about how we would spend our money. In my rebellious years, I didn't think I should give money to charity. I had an attitude that might be typical: "I earned it; why should I give it to charity? What did they do to deserve any of my money?"
We may have been the only family talking about the idea of tithing as we ate our family meals.