Alone time is a precious commodity for an introvert like me, so when it doesn’t happen, I can feel resentful—like it is a right or something. But I know it’s not. So what’s the difference between a Right and a Privilege?
A right = something universally available (ex: oxygen).
A privilege = a luxury (ex: pure water).
Luxuries can quickly turn into perceived rights. Take cell phones, for example. Before we had instant connections with our loved ones, we had to wait until we returned home from the grocery store to make that landline call to Mom or Dad. And in my grandparents’ day, they had to walk next door if they wanted to communicate with their neighbor. Is a cell phone a right or a privilege?
My mother did not care for pets. It was only after much pestering by her kids that she consented to having a dog or a cat in the house. But one day she decided she wanted a bird, captured from the wilds in Africa. It was not a domestic bird. It didn’t deserve to be confined after living a life of freedom. It had lost its rights. Did it resent being stuffed inside a confined space, unable to extricate itself?
Am I that bird when I don’t get my desired solitude–resentful toward those who box me in, interrupt my schedule, or crowd my emotional space?
Jesus asks, “Are you willing to be caged if I ask it of you?”
I want to say yes, but I’m uncomfortable all scrunched up in a ball, confined by a metal cage.
Jesus asks again: Are you willing to be uncomfortable for Me?
“Yes,” I say, “I’m willing. . . If that’s what you’re asking of me.”
And I watch in amazement as the metal bars drop away. The cage was my own sin of resentment for not getting what I believed was a right.
Now I’m free of the cage, but I’m still confined to my own home. Like the bird that escapes its cage, it’s free to fly around the house, but it still longs to be outdoors, free to fly and roam and explore or at least free to make the choice to stay in the house if desired.
I find I’m in a double-bind. I want to open a window and let the bird fly out of the house and return to its natural habitat, but I know it would make my mom mad if I did. Lord, I need help here.
And I watch as God’s large hand enters the home and the bird rests on His finger.
I sing because I’m happy;
I sing because I’m free;
His eye is on the sparrow
And I know He watches me.
So I now know the process to peace:
1. Release resentment.
2. Relax and let God take of my worries, problems, or pain.
3. Relish His care and sing!
But there’s a residual emotion: I still long to be free. Responsibility is sometimes a hard or heavy load to carry. It would be easier to lay it down than to carry it. But that’s a topic to explore on another day.
What privilege do you mistake for a right?