I was enjoying a bowl of steaming potato soup in a friend’s home, and as we dined, she shared memories from her childhood.
Many decades ago, she said, my beloved father hatched a plan to curb his children’s complaining.
How? I asked.
By introducing “The Gripe Jar.”
From that point forward, she explained, all bellyaching was met with a monetary fine, sans lecture. The money was due as soon as the infraction was committed. As my friend expounded, I could almost hear those coins plinking as they were begrudgingly deposited inside the glass jar with an exaggerated sigh.
Did your father’s plan work? I asked, reaching for a slice of cheese.
She smiled. It certainly did.
I thought about “The Gripe Jar” as I drove home, and pondered how often I pass off small complaints, viewing them as harmless and, quite frankly, acceptable, given extenuating circumstances.
This is poor, unbiblical thinking, is it not?
All complaining is sin, a raging against God.
Thomas Watson said it well:
Murmuring is the rising up of oneself against God. It sets oneself against God as if I am wiser than he.
If I truly embrace God’s sovereignty, which I do, then I must shun complaining about anything the Lord has chosen to give me. In fact, my heart must play catch-up and fight to grasp what my mind already knows: there are no accidents in God’s economy. Every situation has been sifted through his omniscient hands.
A proper heart posture never grouses, only kneels.
How comforting to preach this truth to myself during life’s trials, sorrows, inconveniences, and petty annoyances. When my heart is blanketed with trust and gratitude, I will bow and sing rather than rage and moan.
No one is holding “The Gripe Jar” beneath my nose when I choose to fuss. Nevertheless, the thought of displeasing my Heavenly Father should grieve me far more than any monetary fine.
Have you noticed?
This world is chock-full of egregious complainers: men, women, and children who are championed and cheered as they protest, grumble, and bellyache at every turn.
But as Christians, we have the finest reason to replace our complaining with singing and rejoicing: we are God’s pilgrims, a redeemed people on our way to heaven with Christ.
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I was exercising on an underwater treadmill yesterday, while a nearby cluster of women gabbed as they floated atop their fluorescent pool noodles. One began to complain — griping about the impending snowstorm, the skyrocketing cost of groceries, the gloom of tax season, her sore, arthritic shoulder, and, oh yes! her husband’s dental fiasco.
A few others nodded and proceeded to chime in with a beef or two. (Or three.) A chorus of complaints. Suddenly, the chlorinated air felt thickly oppressive. I wished for earbuds.
But there was no stopping her now! She was revved up, on a roll.
And to top it off, ladies, I can never get a treadmill reservation! The signup app is ridiculous, and—
You can have mine, dear, said the lady next to me, on coveted treadmill # 1, her eyes kind and smile warm as she deserted her reserved equipment.
God is good, she said softly, shining as a star, pure and blameless.
The chorus of complainers?
Silenced.
14 Do everything without grumbling or arguing, 15 so that you may become blameless and pure, “children of God without fault in a warped and crooked generation.” Then you will shine among them like stars in the sky. (Philippians 2:14-15)
The Palest Ink 