Complaining about complainers

If you would permit me, I would like to complain about complainers.

Oh, the irony of it all.

By the very nature of what I do, I deal with those who complain.

There is always a "crisis of the week" or someone who is complaining about something.

And, to be honest, I can find myself complaining about those who complain.

I don't know what is worse, those that complain behind my back, or those who complain to me in person!

Jeff Manion, in his wonderful book, "The Land Between" writes:

"The heart drifts toward complaint as if by gravitational pull - after all, complaint seems a reasonable response to a sequence of disappointing events.  Generally, you don't have to extend an invitation for complaint to show up.  It arrives as an uninvited guest.  You return home from yet another frustrating day to discover that complaint has moved into your guest room, unpacked its luggage, started a load of laundry, and is rooting through your fridge.  Even as you seek to dislodge complaint - as you move its bags to the curb and change the locks - it crawls back through the guest room window.  Complaint resist eviction."

He goes on to write, "before we know it, complaint feels right because it is familiar.  With every struggle, we become the Israelites murmuring in the desert.  We  miss the faith lessons.  God desires to prepare us and build things into us, but we are hunkered down in our pattern of response.  We need to wake up and notice what is happening!  How do we evict that spirit of complaint?"

Finally, he writes, "I have heard it said that "bad movement pushes out good movement" and "good movement pushes out bad movement."  We can discourage complaint's residency in our lives by inviting another guest to move in with us.  That new guest is trust.  When we choose to trust in the face of deep disappointment, complaint has less space to maneuver.  While attempting to unpack for an extended stay, it discovers that trust has taken all the drawers in the guest room and already occupies the empty seat at the table.  Trust evicts complaint.  Trust and complaint are incompatible roommates.  One inevitably pushes the other out."

Good stuff.

Let me ask you this question:  Are you a complainer?

You say, "who me"? 

Yes, I am talking to you.

Do you whine?  Complain about everything?

The weather.  The economy.  The government.  Your family.  Your neighbors.  Your church.  Your kids?

Where nothing ever meets your expectations and standards?

Do you go by the motto that, "if it weren't for the imperfections of others, you would have nothing to talk about?"

Come on now, you are better than that aren't you?

BTW, how egotistical it is of us to expect perfection around us.  Whoever said that you had the right to a perfect spouse?  Perfect children?  Perfect boss?  Perfect church?

What makes you any different from anyone else?  And - how perfect are you?

Here's what I know:  People who complain about everything - don't like themselves.

In his book, Confessions of a Pastor, Graig Groeschel offer some advice on how to handle people who complain.

He writes, "It's a fact that "hurting people who people."  They usually dislike themselves and criticize other sin a misguided effort to validate themselves.  If one of these injured souls lobs a criticism grenade in your direction, defuse it with understanding.  Part of considering the source is seeking awareness of what that person may be going through."

He goes on to give this illustration: 

"One time I was praying during worship, a few moments before preaching.  Eyes closed, focusing in God, I felt someone slip a note into my hand.  I never saw who it was, but the note was marked "personal."  I though to myself, someone probably wrote a nice note to encourage me before I preach.

A warm, loving feeling settled over me as I unfolded the paper. 

A moment later, I lost that loving feeling.

Evidently, the note was from a woman who had tried to see me on Friday, my day off.  She took offense at my absence and blasted me with hateful accusations.  This happened literally seconds before I was to stand up to preach.  In that moment, I had a choice.  I could internalize the offense and become demoralized and discouraged.  Or I could ask myself, "I wonder what she's experiencing that caused her to lash out?"

Finally he writes, "I chose compassion over depression.  My heart hurt for her.  I knew that such a disproportionate reaction must indicate deep pain, so I didn't take her note personally.  Consider the source.  And consider the possibility that the jab may have come from an injured heart.  Dismiss it and move on.  If you don't you may become the very thing you despise."

Wow, between the two quotes, it really hits home.  It convicts me.

"Father, forgive me for complaining about complainers.  They will always be with us.  It is the nature of our carnal nature.  Help me to look to you Lord, and realize that beneath all of the complaining is a hurting person.  I rely upon you, oh God.  Amen."

Just a thought for a Thursday.