Real Families

They say we’re in uncharted waters with this financial crisis, and in some ways that seems to be the case. But families for countless generations have weathered hard times, often growing stronger in the face of external threats. How, I wonder, are young families in particular coping with these fearsome financial challenges? How are real families coping with the foreboding dark clouds of impending economic collapse? How shall we respond to news reports that paint pictures of cataclysm at the level of civilization-as-we-know-it?

I see a natural tendency to pull in the outstretched limbs, hunker down and take prudent precautionary measures. I know the instinctive response that moves to hoard and protect the assets that remain. I applaud the steps I see people taking to trim excessive expenses and use fewer resources out of care for the environment.

But it is time to step back, turn down the volume on the incessant bad news chatter and take stock of our real situation. This is what families are for: We hold things together in good times but especially in hard times. When we send the alarm signal down into our roots, we discover there are solid, proven capacities we can draw on, memories we can pull up and rehearse about how our parents and their parents, stretching back many generations, not only survived but thrived in tough seasons of the past. There are stories that can brighten our dark nights and songs to get us through what is sure to be a long journey.

One of these stories comes from my family. In the throes of the Great Depression, my grandparents had lost one farm and struggled to keep another. During a lean year, as the church offering came around to the annual support for mission, their household had little or nothing to contribute, or so it seemed.

The Sunday after the mission offering, church leaders at the congregation announced there might have been a mistake. Somebody apparently had placed a valuable gold coin in the collection plate, perhaps mistaking it for a lesser coin. They would be happy to return it if the mistake were acknowledged and the coin reclaimed. No one stepped up to take back the coin. It did indeed go to support the church’s mission efforts. Family lore has it that the coin looked just like a precious gold piece that had come into my grandparents’ possession as a wedding gift.

As a Mennonite people, often we have earned a reputation for frugality and simplicity in lifestyle, sometimes verging on tight-fisted stinginess. Many of our self-deprecating jokes turn on this temptation to a miserly spirit. Yet there are many stories among us of generosity, when largeness of spirit meets human need with cheerful goodwill. In times like these, it’s time to relinquish the humility that prevents us from telling these stories. After all, they feature the self-sacrificial love at the core of our salvation history.

What God has done for us in Christ allows us in turn to share freely with others. This is what makes families work. This is the channel that brings water up from our roots. This is the source of the quiet confidence that produced legions of intrepid cross-cultural witnesses, fearless martyrs and faithful everyday disciples. Whether rural doctor, front-line peacebuilder, middle-school teacher, farming family, counselor, insurance underwriter, backwoods environmentalist—all taking their skills into the marketplace without expecting high-octane financial reward, all working to develop their communities as safe places for human thriving.

Jeremiah writes: “Blessed are those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord. They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream. It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit” (17:7-8).

Perhaps in the providence of God, these are the times to rediscover the simplest delights and virtues of life together in our families. Poetry, stories, songs and games are surely more recession-proof than the gadgets and widgets of late modernity. These family activities create shade and shelter for others also. Soup with neighbors around our table outranks fine dining at the overpriced restaurant downtown.

Instead of hunkering down under the bleak misery of survivalist mentalities, we can live into the stories of God’s people in hard times whose trust was in the Lord. And that trust will bring us together with renewed solidarity as the people of God. Rather than merely fending for ourselves, we will learn again to tend to the commonweal—growing in generosity of spirit, staying green and bearing fruit, facing the future together as a people whose God is the Lord.

Gerald Shenk teaches at Eastern Mennonite Seminary in Harrisonburg, Va., and works with The Table, an emerging Mennonite congregation.