40 Maxims Blog

I signed up to contribute to the 40 Maxims blog that I posted about earlier. This post will go up on Wednesday, but I thought I would stick it here too.

Don’t complain, grumble, murmur or whine.

When I read which Maxim was mine, I chuckled. Irony, it seems, always wins. I am a huge whiner. I usually like to label my complaining nicely. I’m “venting” or “just airing some problems.” But it’s whining and complaining, all the same. So I thought on this for a few days. What does a whiner—of whom I am first—have to say about complaining, grumbling, or murmuring?

I read somewhere that if all the people in the entire world put their problems in a huge pile, we would all take back our original ones. Boy isn’t that the case! My problems, as a middle-class American, are pretty minor. In the grand scheme of life in general, they really aren’t even a blip on the radar. So why do I insist on expounding on them? It seems that every time I complain about something, that tiny incident—whatever it may be—is magnified. And if I complain about it to five people (as I usually do) then it is magnified five times. All of a sudden, I have made a mountain out of that little molehill.

In further retrospection, I realized something. My complaints are really blessings. Take today, for example. My strong-willed daughter is in the midst of her terrible twos. I could grumble about that until the cows come home, and still have breath left over. But instead, I am going to choose to see the many gifts in this situation. Thank you God, for the blessing of her throwing a fit on the floor. That means that we have a floor, and a roof over it. Instead of calling my husband at work to complain about her sassing, I will instead thank God that I have a husband to call. Instead of grumbling that she swiped too many cookies when I wasn’t looking, I will be grateful that she is fed. And when I want to murmur over my pile of dirty laundry, I will instead offer a prayer of thanksgiving for the beautiful little girl who created it.

Truly, I believe this is one of the struggles of the Christian life: to see the grace and blessings of God in all things, however troublesome or mundane. And when I sit and think about it, the even more extraordinary truth is that I am alive and able to complain. I am loved and cared for by God “who so loved the world that He gave His only-begotten Son.” As we draw nearer and nearer to Golgatha, where that Only-Begotten Son died for me and my sins, my heart trembles that I have the audacity to complain when such a price was paid for me! Thank God for forgiveness. Thank God for the Cross. Thank God for the Resurrection!