How Do I Know When I Have Enough?

IT STARTED WITH AN OIL CHANGE

I took my old but faithful car to the shop yesterday for a routine oil change. I say routine, and that’s what I was expecting, but my car has rolled 233,000+ miles over the past 16 years, so trips to the car doctor often lead to bad news. This visit was no exception: I left with my car, but without $1,147, and I mentally grumbled as I drove out of the parking lot. I started the calculations in my head (a dangerous choice considering my poor math skills.) Pretty quickly, I realized that an upcoming check from a consulting job would have to go toward car repairs.

“Why can’t I ever catch up?” I asked out the open window into traffic. “It’s like the moment I’m going to have enough money coming in, something unexpected comes up and snatches it away.”

And then, call it the Holy Spirit or my conscience or the Cookie Monster, something in me said, “Yeah, but the money is coming in.”

Which prompted a very uncomfortable thought: How do I know when I have enough?

THE BOOKS ALWAYS KNOW

On my birthday my friends and I browsed around the shelves at Half-Price Books and I saw a book by an author I love. A good friend (hey, Professor!) bought me the first book in the series years ago, and I didn’t own the second one yet. I bought it (see: birthday) but I had to finish another book first. (I can only read one non-fiction book at a time.)

But, the morning of the world’s most expensive oil change, I cracked open my new book: Almost EVERYTHING by Anne Lamott. I liked what I read, but I wasn’t blown away. Until that evening, after the oil change, as the question floated through.

“How do I know when I have enough?”

And then I remembered Anne’s description of a parable Jesus tells, where a landowner hires workers over the day. Some of them work longer than others. Then, at the end of the day, he pays each of them the same amount: one denarius. The laborers (essentially unskilled farmhands) who worked longer were furious. Why didn’t they get more than the others?

EXACTLY HOW MUCH IS ENOUGH?

Everything I can find on the subject (in the 20 minutes I spent looking) says that the denarius, or standard daily wage, was enough. Unlike our current Minimum Wage, which excludes factors like the cost of living or the person’s skill set, earning a denarius in Jesus’ time was enough to keep food on your table and an intact roof over your head. Some scholars even say it was more than enough; to feed a family of four required one denarius every five days.

And this is what Anne made of the situation:

“The owner notes that each of them got what they’d been promised, i.e., enough, the standard daily wage. Why would anybody–like, say, an addict–want more than enough?

No one you know, I’m sure.”

HOW DO I KNOW WHEN I HAVE ENOUGH?

How do I know when I have enough? And why would I want more than enough? Am I so addicted to money that I want to have as much of it as possible? (The answer is yes.) Am I really that addicted to “more?” (Also yes.)

If you’re like me, in the face of these kinds of realizations, internal protesters always show up with signs and pamphlets.

“But we don’t want to suffer!” they yell. “We’re not asking for much, just some peace and security!”

Anne writes a few pages later: “Almost every facet of my meager maturation and spiritual understanding has sprung from hurt, loss, and disaster.”

Well, shoot.

DO I ALREADY HAVE ENOUGH?

Which would I prefer, to have more than enough and no growth, or to have just enough and to struggle? Ignoring the protesters and their perfectly valid points about a happy medium, I mentally choose growth.

Now, I don’t fully know what that means. I don’t yet know how I’m going to remember this (suggestions welcome.) But I do know that next time I ask the question, “How do I know if I have enough?” the answer is actually very simple: I already do have enough.

What do you think? How do you know when you have enough?