Cheetos and Chase Manhattan Bank — Is God in Everything?

After I picked up the “necessaries,” I walked down the grocery store potato chip aisle. I asked God whether or not I could buy some puffed Cheetos – I’d been craving them for several days now. You might be thinking, why does she need to ask God whether she can buy Cheetos? Can’t she just buy them? Well, in the old days, yes, I probably could. And I probably would have. But not today. Today I have walked a long way down this path of faith. Choices like that aren’t left to me anymore, seems like. In the old days, I had tens of thousands of dollars sitting in the bank account and, in my all-too-human arrogance, I regularly made decisions, all kinds of decisions, on my own without consulting or even thinking about God. Today, the tens of thousands of dollars are gone, along with all other forms of cash and credit I ever “had.” The $3.79 price tag on those Cheetos could be the difference between paying the light bill this month or not. The arrogance is mostly gone, too, I think. I hope. (Can a human EVER completely lose her arrogance? Probably not.) Feels like all that’s left is this constant awareness of my frailness, weakness, fatigue, and raw need to lean on Christ for everything, and to obey only what I hear for fear that if I don’t, this life that’s been given to me will blow away like so much ash on the wind.

If pondering a Cheetos purchase brings me to my knees in that way, how do I decide the BIG stuff? How do I decide whether or not to file a lawsuit against Chase Manhattan Bank? The client wants me to – he believes God is telling him to fight for righteousness. That’s all fine and good, but am I to be his/His warrior? What is God telling ME to do? I have strained and strained to try to hear Him on this one, and my reception is still full of static. Is that because God is not speaking or because I am trying to tune Him out?

I don’t want to take this case. That is the truth. I am tired. I am so tired sometimes I think I am going to cry. Sometimes I do cry. In a world where I have no time or money to spare, how do I figure out how to allocate the resources I’ve got? Do I try to earn money? Do I spend time with my family? Do I try to follow what I think God is telling me to do, even if it seems like His direction leads me (in the near term, anyway) away from both of those things? This is so hard, I want to cry. I think I am crying. When will these tears dry up?

Do I go after the money? Well, I have done that in the past, and we all know where that got me. I gained a big fat bank account and lost all sanity and sense of self I ever thought I might have. Hmmm, I guess the answer to that one is no.

Do I take care of my family? Tough question – what does “take care of” mean? My family means more to me than anything else in this world – including myself. But sometimes I wonder whether my need to care for “my family” is really a self-centered desire to set the rules and be the boss. If I really and truly care about my family, shouldn’t my primary goal be to make sure they are “cared for” – whether through me or anyone and anything else? And can’t God do that very well? If I care about my family as much as I say I do, shouldn’t I let them go and let God take care of them, because He is the only one who truly can make sure the family is cared for? Sometimes He will care for them by using me, I reckon. Sometimes, He won’t. If I truly care about my family’s well-being above all else, including myself AND my ego, then it should not make one whit of a difference who God chooses to take care of them or how God chooses to provide for them. If I believe in God and everything He says, and everything He is, then I have to give my family to Him. Put them in His care. That is the best and the safest place for them to be.

Well, that seems to leave door three. The “GOD” door. Funny how He is always last, isn’t He? Funny how we will work through everything, through hook and crook, to try and avoid leaning on Him and just Him? (Well, I try to avoid that, anyway. I can’t assign my weaknesses to others.) I am reading this book “Traveling Mercies” by Anne Lamott. She is a rather irreverent (I try to come up with some other word to describe her, but this one is so perfect) writer who writes a lot about her relationship with Jesus. This is how she describes the moment she accepted God – it was shortly after she had an abortion. She was bleeding heavily, high on sleeping pills and alcohol, when she felt Jesus sitting in the corner of her bedroom. In the morning He was gone, but after that and for the next few pages, she describes Jesus as “a little cat” who was following her around, waiting for her to invite Him in. She refused to do it. Flat refused. Then, one day, she left a church service early after being deeply moved by one of the songs the church members were singing. She said she began to cry, ran home, and opened the door. Now, here’s her words . . . .”I stood there a minute, and then I hung my head and said, ‘Fuck it: I quit.’ I took a long deep breath and said out loud, ‘All right. You can come in.’ So this was my beautiful moment of conversion.”

That testimony really resonates with me at times like this. C.S. Lewis, in his book “Surprised by Joy” which describes his transformation from an atheist into a Christian (later to become one of the most well-known, well read Christian writers ever), talks about what incredible humility God must possess in order to accept our lame, pathetic, and begrudging attempts to submit our wills to His. Seems like God is always, always relegated to door three. I feel so bad about that, but I guess not bad enough to change. Yet. Maybe that’s part of what grace is all about. And that “agape” love stuff they’re always talking about. Grace and agape are about, in some measure, His willingness to wait behind door three.

I know I have to take this case. I know I have to fight Chase Manhattan Bank. Why? Well, because God put me here to fight for the little guys. He trained me for it. Every single day I sat at Kirkland & Ellis, hating it with every fiber of my being, wondering why I was there, it was for this. It was so I could be prepared to fight for the little guys. God let the big guys train me so I could turn around and fight against them and for the little guys. Doesn’t that just sound like something God would do? “For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance . . . will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to royal position for such a time as this?” Esther 4:14.

And the money? Well, America’s financial foundation is crumbling as we speak, so if I go down in personal financial ruin right along with it, I will have a lot of company.

And my family? Greg told me early this morning that when Penny wakes up in the middle of the night, she rubs her eyes, looks at him, and then looks toward the door as if waiting for me to come in. (Needless to say, I am usually not in bed with them.) I hope, by God, that at the end of the day, that will be enough. I hope that Penny grows up to realize that her mother may not always be right beside her, but mommy is never, ever too far away to come running when needed.

And the Cheetos? Well, I bought them. And they were really, really delicious.

This is an email that Anita sent to me and her mom on Sunday, October 12, 2008 11:22 AM. — Greg