Zero-Sum Thinking and The Abundant Life

Man … never did I ever anticipate Elon going scorched earth … with anything! Viewing him (most of the time) through rose colored glasses, I’ve always been drawn to his clear and simply stated opinions on X; his mic-drop insights; and his courage, like going all in on Free Speech with the purchase of Twitter.

I’m in a mild state of shock.

Now, before we get into a scrappy discussion about the Big Beautiful Bill, the amount of cost cutting included, whether Trump’s strategy is the right one … and so on, I intend this post be about how zero sum thinking puts limits on our capacity to experience the abundant life. I guess that was a spoiler. Sorry.

Forget that and stay with me please. I’ve been thinking about this.

I’ve written several times about my oldest daughter’s issues. Three and a half years ago, during the week before Easter, her loser boyfriend dumped her. She became suicidal and was put on a 5150 involuntary hold. Held for almost two weeks in a mental health facility, we knew nothing of what was ahead. I assumed that after her release, she’d methodically return to health through intensive outpatient programs (IOPs), twice-a-week therapy sessions, and the regular dosages of a special mix of prescription drugs. And that all of this would return her to her right mind. And we would live happily ever after.

That was the plan. Yes, little problem-solver mom would put everything back in order.

Uh huh.

There were multiple 5150s, including one precipitated by a call to the Sheriff’s office, me on the kitchen floor wrestling a knife out of her hands while my husband spoke to the 911 dispatcher. Take a note there. No, it’s not like that. I just have faster Spidey Sense than he does.

Things eventually shifted away from psychotic episodes and emergency mode, but it was slow. She hated the IOP sessions ... they didn’t know what they were doing, she knew more than they did, and it wasn’t helping her. My frustration with her grew to new levels despite doing my best not to show it. The daily weight of dread began to consume me.

And then again, there was a shift. She watched her best friend walk for her diploma, finishing the degree program that they had started together. When she got home, the first thing she said was “Mom, I need a purpose. Some direction. I want to go back to school.”

She applied to university and got in.

It was an amazing reception of smoothed out red tape and support services. Perfect. But, within a few months she started feeling unwell ... in a new way. Neither of us knew what to do. For me, she may have been complaining to get attention. For her, she didn’t want to be a burden.

Take another note.

Turns out she was ill. Very ill. The night I told her to “Come home” was the last chance she would have to drive the 200 mile trek with her eyesight intact. God’s protection somehow got her home. After multiple ER visits, she was diagnosed with a rare auto-immune system disease prevalent with people of her ethnicity. If not stopped in its tracks, the doctor said it would become chronic. Her treatment began; a horrendous treatment that has lasted since February of last year. She is within a few weeks of its end.

Anyway, when she got sick at school, the university didn’t flinch, rushing to accommodate her for the rest of the semester via online learning. One class had to be dropped, but she was able to make it up through online summer school.

She never stopped. Slow but sure. She continued into the Fall and Spring semesters, living in the dorm for a few nights a week, and making the trek home every weekend. All this time, under an often debilitating treatment for her illness.

So …

All this time, The Almighty was working up to laying down a message for me. You see, I’d been estimating the cost of my daughters’ issues. Costs to the bank account, cost of my time (my most precious possession), the cost of my freedom, and the cost of my short future ahead. I’d been fighting for her, but also for myself. Every mood swing, every outburst, every moment of entitled behavior, every “F” bomb hurled my way, every disappointment when she failed to follow through on keeping her self groomed and her room clean … were thefts of my peace, my winter-of-life years, and my ability to sleep at night, mare-free.

I was owed. I’d put in all I had.

So, yeah ... I was owed.

Many would understand, right? Elon might.

And then the message from above … or from within … (when you’re half way through the exchange of your life for His, it can be confusing) …

Anyway, the message …

GO THE DISTANCE

Huh?

GO THE DISTANCE

(Honestly, I pictured a dog on a muddy road in a major downpour running his heart out to please his master, tripping and falling along the way, getting back up, shaking off his disorientation, and resuming the pursuit … going the distance.)

The message popped. The blinders fell off my eyes. I saw Him, carrying us both to a destination of His choosing that can’t be clearly seen. Not our choosing. Not my choosing. There is no ETA, no promised outcome, and no guarantee she will ever be able to take care of herself.

But I understood.

“Okay,’ I said.

As I said the word, my entire being was refreshed.

The future is wide open. Always as been. No ends of galaxies with God. He is infinite. He loves without limits. And He gave and gives everything. If we say Yes, lean into Him, and trust Him with open hands … I think that’s something akin to the abundant life. He gives more than we could ever need or imagine, perfectly tailored to who we are.

The object lesson:

It’s not about credit given as something due us. It’s not about owning our time and dictating how it will be used, and not used. And it’s not about guaranteed outcomes of glory and recognition.

It’s about dying to self in trade for Christ in me, and experiencing the abundant life He promised, without conditions. It won’t look like what we thought or what we think we deserve (we “deserve” nothing).

Look, I can imagine how Elon feels. He risked a great deal, has suffered losses and persecution, and he poured out what he felt were gifts, talents, and treasures as his contribution on the United States Rescue Team.

The trouble … he had expectations. Possibly subconscious. One might say unrealistic. But still … they were his expectations, they were not realized, and now he feels betrayed. I get it.

But … another but … we’re talking about Elon here. I have faith that whatever that spirit of love and generosity is in Elon, the one that prompts him to do heroic things in the interest of our country, will emerge again and put him in his right mind. Maybe he will learn something new about himself, as we all must in order to redeem the difficult times of disappointment that drive us to behave in … how do I say? … unproductive ways.

Quick Update:

At the end of May, my daughter graduated with honors, earning a BA in Psychology. On Monday of this week, she started her new job as a care coordinator at a residential treatment center for teens and young adults.

She will be a good care coordinator.

And I am happy to have her home. We laugh a lot.

Thank you for your prayers.