Are You Particular?

A year or so ago a friend of mine described me as high maintenance. I protested of course, picturing some urban metrosexual with perfectly scuffed jeans and white shoes. She said, no not that like, you’re just really particular, you like things the way you like them. Oh. I see.

Like a good Christian, I quickly justified my idiosyncrasies and filed any remaining guilt far far down the list of sins, next to items like speeding and light swearing. All was well until I read an essay by C.S Lewis on the sin of being particular. His reference was food, which offered little conviction for me. But the idea stuck in my head, and I agreed to observe my life for a week or so and note any picky tendencies.  The results were not encouraging.

First I considered why I didn’t picture myself as a picky person. That answer came quickly. I had developed the fine art of considering my own sin only in relation to those around me. I just latched onto the pickiness I could observe in other people and assumed since I wasn’t so ridiculous as to struggle in that way, I was in the clear. Unfortunately this was all too easy. Seattle is a very fussy city. I simply walked into the neighborhood Starbucks and watched the finely tuned choreography of the pickiest people on earth. I’ll have a grande half caf, soy latte, two squirts of carmel, 175 degrees, and please, no foam. Not me, I drink my coffee black.

Though my choice of caffeinated drinks may not suffer from over refinement, other absurdities were clearly evident. Dress shirts and mountain bikes were a good starting point. Each carried their own internal justifications. Well fitting shirts are nearly impossible to find and mountain biking is a healthy recreational activity that allows me to exercise in His creation. It would be a sin to misuse my financial resources and purchase something that doesn’t fit my needs. Beautiful isn’t it?

Ok. I’m particular. But only in certain areas. Whatever. Is it really a sin? Doesn’t a huge part of our economy depend on the fickle desires of customers? It’s hard to imagine Starbucks succeeding in a world without fussy and demanding customers. Yeah, I’ll have a drink, whatever is easiest, just something warm, no big deal. I know barristas at Starbucks. This never happens.

I struggle to think of a reason why a fussy attitude is a sin in it’s own right. Yet the foundation that allows for it and the aftermath that follows are certainly so. Pickiness requires a sense entitlement. I’ve earned the right to choose exactly what I want and I deserve it. It’s like the homeless guy who refuses the meal you’ve brought because he doesn’t like mayo on his sandwich. We interpret this refusal, quite accurately, as a misplaced sense of entitlement. If you’re receiving something as a gift, you relinquish the right to certain demands.

This may be true for the poor, but what about the well off? And if you’re reading this, you’re almost assuredly in this category. If you make $75k a year and Starbucks fills your frappuccino with 2% milk instead of non-fat, our culture tells us it is totally justifiable to explode at the nervous high school girl behind the counter. We accept this because we believe fussiness ought only be limited by the size of our wallet.

Jesus, of course, calls us to something wildly different. He throws out the very foundation of our pickiness, our sense of entitlement. It is impossible to carry on with feelings of entitlement when we recognize that absolutely everything is a gift from Him. Everything. Not just the good job that provides the money allowing you to pick and choose, but the very ability to perform the job in the first place. Jesus cuts to the heart of our most common justification.

On a very basic level this pickiness often kicks the door open for a mob of sins to follow. Anger when you don’t get what you want. Jealousy when someone else got what you wanted. Sorrow when you worked so hard to get exactly what you wanted, and it still disappoints. Anxiety because if it isn’t exactly the way you want, it will ruin everything.

Consider also how it disconnects you with the rest of the world. 90% of the world cannot fathom the time you spend picking out the tile for your counter top, because they have no kitchen. Even those who can relate to our spirit of particularity don’t fair much better. Have you ever heard anyone say, gosh, I just love hanging out with Marla, she is so picky and hard to please. I may admire the accomplishments of those with refined tastes, but I would hardly enjoy finding them a birthday present.

Where are you particular? Observe your life for the next week and take notes. When did you make a substantial effort to go out of your way to have it your way? When were you annoyed? What decisions caused anxiety? We’re brilliant at substituting the insignificant problems for real struggles. I find it quite possible to reach the same level of anxiety over my new ski boots not fitting properly as some kid in Bolivia feels over missing his next meal. Perhaps for you it’s not even a purchase. Perhaps it’s traveling. You’ve become so particular that your next vacation must be to the absolute most compelling spot on earth or it won’t satisfy. So you pour over the internet ferreting out a hidden tropical gem, while some redneck in Louisiana is having the time of his life with a game of horseshoes and a Budweiser. If you know that simple pleasures are much easier to come by and just as satisfying, why on earth would you willingly raise the bar?

At its deepest level, I’ve found a spirit of particularity simply distracts me from the truest source of joy. If you are particular, it is because you have convinced yourself that more joy will come from more refined desires. As a Christian, this refinement becomes absurd. C.S Lewis related this to a child defending his right to play in a sandbox while the promise of an entire beach was only blocks away. Pickiness takes it a step further. Not only are we content to sit in the kiddie pool, we now find ourselves toiling to build the castle of our dreams from a few flecks of sand.

Kick it over and head to the ocean. As you draw closer to His presence the pickiness you held so closely will fade away as utterly trivial.