Why do I do what I do when I do what I do?
I like that… sounds kinda catchy.
Yesterday morning, I got up an hour early so that I could write a post. I have been really sketchy in my posting over the last few weeks, what with getting the Easter book done and all.
What? You don’t know about the Easter book? Where have you been, Man?
To continue…
Yesterday morning, I got up an hour early so that I could write a post. I have been really sketchy in my posting over the last few weeks, what with getting the Easter book done and all. As I dragged my sleepy carcass down the stairs, I saw that the kitchen was a nightmare. Pots and pans and utensils and dishes and glassware and power tools and bits and bobs of food were strewn about the room with reckless abandon. My Beautiful One had been up late into the night, creating delicious sustenance for her family. She had left tastiness, including pretzel bread—oh, oh, oh, pretzel bread—and utter chaos in her wake. I knew how depressing it would be for her to wake up and have to face that mess, and I knew I could use my extra hour to clean up, but I had gotten up early specifically to write.
I had an hour.
I had a choice.
Most of you are better people than I, and would have faced no indecision. You would have either,
- Ignored the messy kitchen and written, since that’s why you got up in the first place, or
- ditched the writing and helped out your mate, providing a loving, surprising act of service.
Either way, you would have acted decisively, because that’s the kind of strong, clear-thinking person you are. You’re my hero.
I, on the other hand, am not you. I have motivation issues.
Not motivation in the sense of, “I have no desire to leave my chair; just let me stay here and throw me some food once in a while,” although I do that too. I mean motivation in the sense of, “Why am I doing this? Is this a selfish act, or am I really trying to do something good?”
You see, I always wonder why I’m doing stuff. Take the kitchen example: Do I want to skip writing and do the dishes because I want to bless my bride, or am I just looking for an excuse not to write? Perhaps I want the kudos that come with doing a good deed. Or, am I feeling guilty because she was obviously up late cooking whilst I was fully engulfed in slumber?
The answer, of course, is “All of the above.”
All of these things were part of my motivation. Yesterday morning, as I stood surrounded by kitchen mess, I was reminded of an important fact. There is no such thing as a pure motive. Every good thing I want to do could have a positive spin for me.
Why is that a problem?
It shouldn’t be, of course, but then I said I had motivation issues.
If do a good thing from impure motives, does it still count as a good thing?
And what do I mean by, “count?” Count with whom? God? The person I’m helping?
Conversely, if I choose not to do a good thing because I have mixed motivations, what benefit is there in that? All I’ve really done is fail to do a good thing.
I remember once, as a baby Christian, I had two friends who had recently gotten engaged. I wanted to pray over them, just take them aside, lay hands on them, and ask God’s blessing over their lives. I was afraid, however, that I might be wanting to do this out of a desire to look Spiritual and Godly. I knew it was a good thing to do, but for weeks I struggled with my motivation.
Umpty-four years later, here I stood in the kitchen, having the same internal conversation.
So, here’s the conclusion I’ve come to. Feel free to tell me if you think I’m wrong…
As long as I’m an imperfect man, I will have imperfect motives. If I allow that to keep me from doing good, all I have really done is denied a blessing to someone who I could have, well, blessed. So, I’ll do the good that I see to do, and trust my heart to God. Sound simplistic? Hey, I’ve never claimed to be deep.
So, yeah, I did the dishes. It made my wife happy.