Waiting for the Other Shoe to Drop: Learning to be Content in our Happiness

First, an etymology lesson:

Origins of the phrase "waiting for the other shoe to drop" from that very reliable source, Wiktionary:

A common experience of tenement living and other similar style housing in New York City (and other cities) during the manufacturing boom of the late 19th and early 20th century. Apartments were built similar in design with one's bedroom under another's. Thus, it was normal to hear a neighbor removing shoes and hearing them hit the floor above. As one shoe made a sound hitting the floor, the expectation for the other shoe to make a similar sound was created. 

Meaning of the term:
An idiom; To await a seemingly inevitable event, especially one that is not desirable. 

Life right now is good. Very good. It seems that in every area of my life, on this particular weekend, the stars have aligned. In my work, ministry, marriage, all seem to be going better than usual. A magazine is going to publish one of my blog posts-- my first time ever to be published in anything that wasn't a school newsletter. Even my hair and wardrobe seem to be working out better than they have in months.

And this is why I'm huddled within myself-- cringing. I just know the other shoe is about to drop. I know that if I talk about it too much or admit to myself how very happy I am, all of the good things will evaporate, like waking up from a satisfying dream only to struggle to remember what you were dreaming about. I'm convinced that on Monday morning, I will be saddled with a billion work responsibilities, my husband and I will break out into a terrible fight, my hair will frizz, and this will be the only article I'll ever get published.

But in many ways, we've been conditioned to believe this idiom, haven't we? We survive the earthquake, only to be overtaken by the tsunami. Husband and wife get pregnant against unfavorable odds, only to discover they miscarried their baby a month later. College student appears to be drawing close to the Lord until you realize he's been living a double-life for months. You receive an incredible new job offer, only to discover that the boss is a tyrant.

Oh, yes. We've learned to wait for that other shoe. Life can't be that good. But as we believe this, I think it says something about how we see God. If we find ourselves cringing, we obviously see God as a hardened one, swift to cut us down if we get too happy. But even as you read this, you know that's not true. The Gospel is nothing if not the "good news" that Jesus is Lord and we can find our truest fulfillment in him.

Consider the parable of the talents, found in Matthew 25:14-30.

"For it [the kingdom of heaven] will be like a man going on a journey, who called his servants and entrusted them to his property. To one he gave five talents, to another two, to another one, to each according to his ability. Then he went away. He who had five talents went at once and traded with them, and he made five talents more. [...] But he who had received the one talent went and dug in the ground and hid his master's money. Now after a long time the master of those servants came and settled accounts with them. And he who had received the five talents came forward, bringing five talents more, saying, 'Master, you delivered to me five talents; here I have made five talents more.' His master said to him, 'Well done, good and faithful servant. You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your master.' [...] He also who had received the one talent came forward, saying, 'Master, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you scattered no seed, so I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here you have what is yours. But his master answered him, 'You wicked and slothful servant! [...]

The man with the one talent was waiting for the other shoe to drop, so he did what we seem to do, and hid his gift, his happiness, his passion, replacing it with fear of this powerful God who sometimes acts in ways we can't understand or predict ("reaps where he does not sow"). In our fear of this mighty, uncertain God, we misappropriate our very appropriate fear in reverence of God with a cowardly fear that he will take it all away.

And Jesus addresses this in both Luke 11:11-13 and Matthew 7:9-12 (below).

"You parents-- if your children ask for a loaf of bread, do you give them a stone instead? Or if they ask for a fish, do you give them a snake? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly father give good gifts to those who ask him."


I've always struggled with this passage because sometimes I feel like God is not always a good gift-giver. Sometimes he gives us underwear for Christmas when we were hoping for a bike. And sometimes it's difficult to reconcile a loving Father of good gifts with the hard, expectant reaper of crops he didn't sow. But what if sometimes, the talent he gives us really is a good gift that he wants us to appreciate, fostering a deeper love for Him in our hearts? What if not celebrating when life is really good is like hiding your talent in the dirt and waiting for the other shoe to drop? How can I expect God's response to that to be, "Well done!" Instead, we must admit that we refused to truly delight in his goodness because we refused to trust him." No, I don't think God will applaud our fear and false humility.

I also don't think he applauds our boasting when it's about anything other than His glory. This is where it gets tricky. Somewhere, as we commit ourselves to God in every way, he helps us move out of the arena of making our happiness about ourselves, broadcasting it all over facebook with a "God is good" tagline when all the while we just want everyone to focus all their attention on us. Exposure to God's full character gives us the grace to celebrate talents or happiness as His and the humility to see them as  gifts that are being shared with us and will be returned to him. Anything that finds its beginning or end in us will ultimately poison our spirits, but anything that finds it's origin and destiny in Christ will lead to lasting joy.

But part of adulthood is recognizing that deep pain and despair may very well be around the corner from our joy. And with that, we must struggle to remember that even in that situation, God is both the gentle, generous Father, and the strong, demanding King. In our joys, we can afford to be lamblike in our contentment, and in our suffering, we can be lionhearted like our Savior King. Either way, may we be content to be His.

In happiness or pain, enter into the joy of your master today. He's calling us.