Here You Go, Now Do Something For Me

That (only!) time I treated my wife like a merchant, and I got a great rebuke.

There’s a common theme that I’ll hear from people who find their way into my life.

They’ll sit with me and lament that they do not feel like [insert person they care about] [insert action] enough, even though the person sitting in front of me always [insert good thing(s) said person does]. The math is simple:

My Benevolent Actions Toward You * My Expectations of You = Your Responsibility Toward Me

I’ve aced this formula because I’ve used it too many times in life, especially in marriage.

Here are some ways this formula can show itself again and again:

• Your kids frustrate you because they do not communicate enough gratitude for the dinner you prepared.

• Speaking of kids, how could they pick being a history major after you sacrificed so much to be sure they got into the college of their dreams?

• Speaking of college, you’ve helped all of your college friends move but when it is time for you to move, all of your friends are busy.

• Speaking of being busy, you always stop to listen to how your spouse’s day went but when it is time for you to share, your spouse has started browsing Netflix.

• Speaking of Netflix, why hasn’t Reed Hastings given you some shares of NFLX after all of the hours you’ve spent on the platform?

A tinge of “after all I’ve done for you” belies our motives in these interactions. What we really want is our unspoken expectations to be met, not to actually serve and sacrifice for another’s good.

Giving to Receive = Frustration

I love getting this equation wrong and getting frustrated every time.

I recall a time where I found myself frustrated with Courtney because of after all the things I did for her, I didn’t feel like she talked with me enough or demonstrated enough gratitude.

I’m a simple man with simple needs. I work, I mow the lawn, I make sure the cars work and have the oil changed, I preach good sermons so she can be edified, I have health insurance for all her diabetic needs, and I don’t get mad at her every month when the grocery budget goes deep into the red.

Basically a perfect husband.

All I need is for Courtney to hit that target I’ve created that she cannot see, and if she could see the target, I’d adjust it on the fly so she wouldn’t. It’s simple, really. Reciprocate in ways that I expect, even though I don’t tell you, and don’t get mad when I change the rules.

This approach is constantly frustrating and never fulfilling. When we give to receive, we find ourselves annoyed with the people we love the most (but also people we don’t know at all). We put ourselves in the middle of our universe—making any act of perceived benevolence a guise for others serving us.

The Kitchen Table Rebuke

When men feel this way, there is one place to go: other men. This is why guys get together, right? To talk about the things we do for our families and friends that are more loving than anything we get back.

Luckily for me, we had another guy living with us: Peter. Our house at the time had a one-bedroom apartment on the other side of the carport. Peter was our first, and only, long-term tenant. We went to church together. He wanted a family to be around and we wanted his money (but more so, his presence in our lives).

Hey, speaking of, that was another way I was being great—generating passive income for the family and being nice to a friend.

So I go and sit down at Peter’s table to get my affirming, “Yeah, man! I get it.” That’s what bros do.

He squares me up and says, “You don’t serve her so she’ll serve you; you serve her because that’s the right thing to do.”

I should’ve evicted him for confronting the landlord.

Giving to Give = Freedom

As much as we hate it, we are often questioning people’s motives—even those closest to us. Why? Because we’re conditioned to assume they’re in it for something. So much of life is transactional that it feels inevitable to view people the same way.

• Why are you asking me how my day went?

• Why did you mow the lawn?

• Why did you do the dishes without me asking?

• Why are you being so nice? What did you do wrong?

Giving out of love—for the good of the other—is both freeing and disorienting. The disorienting comes because we are so used to ascribing motive that we are shocked when something comes with no strings. The freedom comes because now we are not beholden to someone’s response to feel justified for our acts.

Now What?

I assume every reader here thinks, “Of course you give simply because it is the right thing.” This isn’t calculus. I see who subscribes to this Substack and you folks are no fools.

To those I know, I know you’re loving and sacrificial. To those I don’t, I’m going to assume you’re loving and sacrificial.

But there’s still a problem: our benevolence runs out.

Even a kind motive gets twisted over time. We have six, seven, maybe ten thankless acts in us before we get a little perturbed that nobody is picking up what we’re putting down (unless you’re a mom, then you have at least 20x that number).

In those moments when you’re on empty, can you pour out more than you thought imagined?

I want to challenge you to take a significant relationship in your life and make the following statement:

“For the next month, all my service toward you is because I love you. Read nothing else into it and know that I expect nothing from it.”

Thirty days doesn’t seem like a long time, but try it.

• Husbands, can you serve your wives without assuming amorous reciprocation?

• Employees, can you go above and beyond toward your co-workers simply because you want to serve them and not for the notoriety—or promotion—you might receive?

• Friends, can you buy lunch this week for someone, and then again the next week, and then again the next week, without ever expecting to hear, “I’ll get the next one”?

And when that month is up? Do it again. Become the person at home, at work, at church, or on a walk in the neighborhood, who wants nothing from anyone except what is best for the person across from them.

Like Peter was toward me, sitting at that kitchen table—which now sits in my house as a reminder of good lessons (and a place to set the desktop).

We must constantly train in the ways of grace if we want to actually flourish.