Rich Man Dilemma
Essay 3
Jubal and I visited the Leonardo da Vinci exhibit at the museum in the spring. We are two unapologetic history nerds, our pockets already full of vitruvian man and flying machine facts. Psychology and science have always fascinated me…I might’ve majored in psychology if it hadn’t been for my dad poking fun at it. Not that he paid for my college–he certainly didn’t–but I feared his opinion more than my desire because he was the wisest person I knew. The metaphysical and any obscure philosophy was irrelevant to him, and I was obviously wasting time and energy if I cared to know anything of ids or egos.
The obedient daughter acquiesced.
Of course psychology is, ultimately, man’s finite grasp on human motivation. We could fill up all the tabulas rasas in the world and still be scratching out new notions. Still, I was curious. I am curious. When a baby’s mother walks out of the room, does he really cry because he thinks she has gone forever? Why do my children, upon entering the car and barely pulling out of the garage, insist they are starving and in need of a snack? Is this Pavlovian pull a result of me not feeding them enough, or are they triggered by smell old left-behind Doritos and the motion of a car in reverse?
On the wall at the da Vinci exhibit was a quote of his:
There are three classes of people: those who see, those who see when they are shown, those who do not see.
I would bet that everyone walking around the exhibit read that quote and thought, ah, I am a person who sees! Da Vinci, in his genius, surely made this observation with himself at the helm of his vessel. He was ignorant to his own cocky nature. Isn’t it the truth? Our pride indicates our very need to be humbled.
I get caught up in this spin cycle on a daily basis. I love (love!) researching things, collecting an infinite wading pool of information. This buoys my power to reason and feel acceptably knowledgeable in a world of confusion. I like feeling as if I’ve got things figured out–only then can I articulate a sense of belonging or security. When I am unsure, I reason that I am only ignorant and must dig for more information. Once I’ve done some research, certainly again rules the throne and I go only my merry way until I hit the next fork in the road.
The evidence of this habit in my life are stacks and stacks of books that are marked and underlined. A hundred tabs on my computer, audiobooks on my phone. In the last two weeks alone I have read and listened to hours of Enneagram books and podcasts. I’ve read about school policies and puppy training, Abraham Lincoln and clownfish (did you know the male turns into a female?), the Khmer Regime, Emily Dickinson. I’ve read about rigid-minded versus high-performing children. I’ve read Francis Chan’s latest book on church and The Denver Post. I watched an entire Netflix series on tacos just so I could practice my Spanish comprehension.
The key thing to note is the time I’m afforded to peruse my interests. The phone in my pocket, the computer on my desk. The car that can get me to a library. The Netflix account. The one-click Amazon life.
I am blind to my entitlement and the power that money affords. Education. Literacy. Freedom to ask questions.
I think I am a person who sees. I think I am a person who knows.
I think I am a person who has scaled the sacred pyramid of Maslow. I’ve surpassed the need levels of physiology, safety, love, esteem; eventually steam rolling on to self-actualization. I check the boxes like it’s my grocery list: well-fed, check. Safe neighborhood, security system, check. Husband and kids, check. Respectable job, meaningful work, check check.
Who can fault me for wanting meaningful conversations, a four bedroom house, and weekend museum visits with my exceptional, talented children? I can stand unashamed because I’ve worked hard to get here. All the arrows point up to hand-painted rainbow framing my American dream-land. Isn’t it my right and reward?
James 1:9-10 says,
Believers in humble circumstances ought to take pride in their high position. But the rich should take pride in their humiliation–since they will pass away like a wildflower.
The truth is, most of us will never see, even when we are shown. I think I am pursuing excellence when all I’m doing is building pride of life–a fragile little wisp, a wilting wildflower. I’m living in the neighborhood of make-believe with the other puppets. Any time I Super Mario-ed my way up to the next level, I wasn’t gaining favor with anyone but me–it was always a game to distract myself from what was real. Ultimately–shamefully–it’s been all about me. All I can take pride in is my own humiliation: I’ve been cultivating contempt for the One who made me.
Perhaps Maslow’s pyramid is shaped a lot like the Tower of Babel. Could it be we weren’t ever meant to summit the slippery slope to the peak?
Maybe our humanistic approach is so self-serving, so prideful that God must come level the construction. He must confound us back down to the ground.
I say this because no amount of thinking it over and reasoning it out has led me to peace or even a truer, more holistic and balanced life. What happened in my own life looked more like striving for perfection followed by a slow-motion crash and burn. This was evidenced by deep depression and hopelessness. And that was actually when the light broke through, when I understood what it meant to be forgiven for trying to blaze my own miserable path. You see, reasoning never gave me a green light on trusting God. Desperation and confusion did. Poverty of the soul.
I wonder if the rich young ruler wasn’t but an eighteen year old kid when he met Jesus. Was he a philosophical man? Perhaps he grew up and had a life-altering experience that brought his knees to the ground. Maybe he changed– “What is impossible with man is possible with God.” (Luke 18)
Or maybe he just kept clawing his way to the top, forever unsatisfied. Blind, yet convinced he could see.
Whoever loves money never has enough;
Whoever loves wealth is never satisfied with their income.
This too is meaningless.
Ecclesiastes 5:10
