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Chapter 3

The “What’s in It for Me?” Battle

“Give, and it will be given to you; good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. For with the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”

— Luke 6:38

My favorite Gospel story is the one where the angel Gabriel comes down to the young, sweet Virgin Mary and announces God’s plan for her, the “news of great joy”: that she will be overshadowed by the Holy Spirit, become pregnant and give birth to the Son of God, and she will call him Jesus, meaning, “God saves.” And without hesitation, Mary looks up to the angel, eyes wide, leans in close, and quietly asks, “What’s in it for me?”

Oh, wait.

That’s not how it goes.

Actually, she said yes.

Now, if I were Mary? Well, we’d most likely have a different story. That, I realize, would change quite a bit when it comes to the small things, like our salvation. So, ya know, good for you, God, for being wise enough not to send your messenger to me. Plus, if an actual angel ever did appear to me, I would be so terrified that I would, without question, die of a heart attack before the angel ever had a chance to share God’s plan. I don’t even answer the door when it is the UPS guy knocking. Unexpected visitors horrify me.

But let’s say I didn’t die on the spot. Then, yes. Before agreeing to anything, and before making some sort of sarcastic remark of this being “news of great joy,” I would totally ask, “What’s in it for me?” Because I would want to know. I mean, wouldn’t you? If you were asked to give up your plans, your marriage as you had dreamed it to be, your very body, your hopes, your will, your control, and every single bit of life as you know it and desired it to be, wouldn’t you sort of be curious about the payoff? Wouldn’t you want to be sure that this incredible inconvenience, this unusual sacrifice, this unheard-of teen pregnancy bound to be the hot topic at the well, was going to be worth it?

Because, let’s be honest here. We demand to know what the payoff is with lesser things than being asked to be the Mother of God. We don’t usually like to put ourselves out there, or change our plans, or make ourselves vulnerable, or go the extra mile, or simply do something we don’t want to do, or fully understand, unless we get some sort of reward in return. Some kind of consolation prize. I mean, our children can’t poop in the potty without getting a sticker on a chart, and are we really any different? How often do we do what we do, not because we were asked, not because it is the right thing to do, not because we love the person asking, not out of obedience, not because pooping anywhere but the potty is actually kind of gross, but because of the hope that there is something in it for us, personally? Being told, “Well done, faithful servant” just isn’t enough for us, is it? We want a sticker on our chart.

And we don’t just do this with the lesser things. We do this with the big things, too. We do this with our relationships. With our spouses. Our children. Our friends. Our church. Our places of work. With our God. We haggle and we gamble and we place our bids. We try to negotiate the price down, we scheme and we finagle. We cut corners and we go down roads we were certain we would never go down, just to be sure we don’t get the short end of the stick. We do everything we possibly can to get the best deal for ourselves, sometimes regardless of who gets hurt or overlooked or slighted in the process. Because unlike Mary, whose one motive was her love for God, our motive is mostly love for ourselves. And “thy will” becomes my will. And this is a dangerous place to be.

My husband and I went through a difficult season years ago (not to be confused with the difficult season we are in now, or were in many, many years ago, or will most likely be in, in another few years. If you are not yet married, my apologies for breaking the news to you, that you might not hear while testing wedding cake flavors or planning your exotic honeymoon, that marriage is one beautiful trial after beautiful trial. But please, do not be afraid. Cake and vacation do not strengthen a marriage. Trials do.).

I remember, very clearly, being at a party in conversation with a friend’s husband, who decided that I was going to be the lucky person he would share all of his life’s dissatisfaction with. And after running down the laundry list of what his day-to-day routine lacked, he moved on to the sacred: his wife. Maybe it was the drinks. In fact, I am sure it was the drinks. But suddenly, he was very much at ease sharing the most personal details of his marriage with me: running down the things his wife did not bring to the marital table — the lack of respect she had for him, the lack of intimacy between them, really, just the plain ol’ lack. And after his rant, I remember him shaking his head and sort of smiling this sad smile of despair, if there is such a thing. Then he spoke those five deadly words out loud: “What’s in it for me?”

Those words were not only deadly for him, but deadly for me, too. Because once floated out there, like a neon sign hanging over our heads, I started to ask that question for myself. For my own relationship. My own marriage. My own life. My own day-to-day routine. There was this shift in my heart, ever so slight, but that is all it takes, you know, to steer you off track. One small shift of the heart is something our enemy patiently waits for. And in an instant, without being aware of it, I went from thinking about how we could make things better for us, to how I deserved to make things better for me. Because when the tempter has you asking, “What’s in it for me?” you immediately, and unknowingly, erase authentic relationship. With your spouse, with your loved ones, and most importantly, with God.

Now, just a side note here, but speaking poorly about your spouse or a loved one to another person, or sharing intimate details and feelings that truly should go no further than the ears and the heart of the one you made vows to, most especially to the opposite sex, is never a good idea. For obvious reasons. Because this is a fiery poison that will burn down necessary hedges of protection we must plant and place around our most precious relationships. Remember, the enemy hates your marriage and he hates your family, and he will do whatever it takes to destroy them. And he starts with one small shift of the heart. Sister, guard yours. With all that you have, please, guard your heart, because small fractures never remain small fractures. Eventually, they break big. So plant those hedges. And maybe stop talking after two drinks. Or maybe just one.

But Mary. Mary never asked, “What’s in it for me?” Rather, she pondered it all in her heart. She pondered. How often do we ponder? Especially in response to a difficult command or calling from God that we do not understand. Honestly? I think the last time I pondered was in aisle 6, when I had to choose between the tortilla chips with a hint of jalapeño, or the tortilla chips with a hint of lime. Seriously. I spend more time pondering the useless, the stuff that in the end makes no difference whatsoever in my life here on earth, or eternally. But I give immediate, knee-jerk reactions to God when he offers me a game-changing plan, a gift disguised in discomfort, an opportunity for my heart to grow — the things that hold eternal value.

This is why we have to love and learn from Mary. She did not doubt God’s unusual plan for her. She did not look at this truly bizarre calling as a mystery that she had to solve. Rather, she agreed to it, asking to be shown how God wanted her to make it happen. And her response to this angel, this yes to her God, and everything that follows, is something so powerful, so exceptional, that I can barely wrap my selfish human mind around it. Because even at my most faithful, the fire in my heart for Jesus is more like a pathetic, flickering birthday candle than the blazing, all-consuming fire that fills Mary’s heart. When God appears and calls me to do hard things, I usually blow that candle out and run for the hills. And by the hills, I mean the chips and salsa. But not Mary. Her obedience and trust fanned the fire within her, and she stayed still, pondering.

And you might wonder, did I buy the tortilla chips with the hint of jalapeño or the hint of lime? Just kidding. You don’t care. But for the record, I bought and ate both.

But seriously.

You might wonder, because I sure have and often still do … how? How on earth does one get to this place of total trust? Of real, hard-core surrender? Of putting yourself last and others before yourself? Because every single time I think I have reached that place, every single time I say to myself, this must be what it means to lay it all down at his feet, every time it appears I have given all that I have to give over to my Savior, and that green pasture is just around the corner, I am slammed with another trial. I am blindsided by another blow. I am thrown into a brand new battle. I am asked to sacrifice just a little bit more. Trust a little bit more. Have a little more faith. And it is here that I throw myself on the floor, or throw something across the room, or throw that tantrum, just freaking throw … and I scream and I demand to know the answers to those WHY questions that, deep down inside, I know better than to ask. I will be honest: I’m one of those Catholics who prays that Rosary and lights those candles and hits those novenas and rises up early for prayer, and I still scream out to God, in anger and in sorrow, but really, mostly in anger, because honestly, don’t I deserve better? Have I not proven my love? And like a projectile vomit, the ugliness violently spews out:

“Good grief, is this even worth it? What is your good plan, Lord, anyway? Where is your news of great joy? Because I don’t see it. When does this suffering end? When will you reveal to me that great big weight of joy that you promised? Because this hardly seems good and this hardly feels worth it and news flash, Lord, but I’m not feeling the joy! Will I ever see your goodness in the land of the living? Or will I die, like Moses, old and bearded and exhausted, because I have a beard, Lord! Look! I am a grown woman with a beard! What’s the deal with that? Am I just supposed to work hard and suffer and then die, so that everyone but me can enjoy all that milk and honey? Tell me now! I demand to know … do I just need to be dead and bearded to understand any of this? To understand you? And please, Lord, tell me … with this giant cross you have lovingly super-glued to my weak and frail back, that you claim is a gift, I would really like to know, what is the payoff? Where is my sticker? And for the love, sweet Jesus, please tell me, because I am dying to know: WHAT’S IN IT FOR ME?”

Welcome to my inner thoughts that, really, no one ought to hear, except for Father in the confessional. Please pray for the priest who hears my confessions. Poor guy.

But I share this with you because if there is one thing that I have learned in the few years I have worked in women’s ministry, it is that I am not alone. Believe it or not, I am not the only Catholic woman who takes frequent trips to crazyland aboard the selfish express. I am not the only devout woman who loves Jesus, but sometimes doesn’t. Who agrees to pick up her cross daily, but wishes truly that the call was to pick it up biweekly. Or maybe even just once a month. Ideally, not at all. And I know that I am not the only faithful woman who gets so completely overwhelmed, so buried beneath it all, so distracted by the enemy and tossed by the waves, that my “yes” to God, that I desire to give, shifts ever so slightly, transforming itself into a bitter Why? A demanding What? A desperate need to understand the plan and to be assured that in the end, I will be okay.

Because I think “What’s in it for me?” is not simply birthed out of self-centeredness, but rather out of fear. I think we are afraid to answer God’s call. I think we are afraid of what he might ask us to do. I think we are afraid that if we follow Christ, we will not only have to give up those sins that we know are bad for us but think we need to get by, but we will also be asked to constantly give to others. And the fear here is that if we do that, there will be nothing left for ourselves. And I think we think this way because we forget who God is. I think we think this way because maybe we have never truly encountered him. Or we’ve forgotten what that encounter was really like.

You see, Mary, who was so clearly set apart from the rest of us, she knew who God was. She studied the scriptures and soaked up the Old Testament. She had come to know God in such a beautiful, intimate, and personal way. So, when asked to drop everything, when asked to trust, when called to step up to the task she was created for and born to do, nothing other than “yes” made sense. Make no mistake, yes does not mean we understand. But it does mean we have faith, regardless. Maybe if we spent more time in Scripture, getting to know our good Father, this generous and kind King, even though we may not understand the circumstances we are in, we would be less tempted to run from them. To seek out a better plan. To find an easier path. To travel a road less dangerous. To live comfortably. Because our God? He may call us to unsafe places, and he make ask us to step out of our comfort zone, but he is also a God of abundance, and he always will be. He multiplies all that we bring him, no matter how small our offering. Remember, he feeds thousands on just two fish and five loaves of bread — and even then he sends us off with leftovers. You see, when we hand over all that we have, God not only feeds us until we are satisfied, he leaves us with more to eat, he leaves us with more to share. I promise you that. He desires to give us a full life, overflowing with joy. He does not ask anything of us, unless it is for our absolute good. Yes, that is hard for us to process sometimes. I admit, I struggle greatly with this. So many battles I find myself thrown into feel so endless, so pointless, so unloving, so not for my good, that I am tempted to pull back, to close off, and to seek out another way. My own way.

There is only one true way, however, and that way is Jesus. We need to know him if we are going to work with him. We need to trust him when the messenger appears, and we need to be able to say yes to the task that God has created specifically and uniquely for us. We need to believe that our Father loves us so much that, no matter what he asks, we will not be left out of receiving the trophy that awaits us. We will not lose the battle, or walk away defeated, or not be able to walk at all. If we abide in him, we will be victorious.