"Sharing is caring..."

You must have sung this song as a child. I'm not sure the rest of the words, but I've got a hint of a tune in my head that goes along with this phrase, and I am singing it in my head just now...

Sharing is caring.

But sharing sure does freak people out these days. "You let someone else drive your car?" I do, after all, have such a deep affection for this chunk of metal sitting in the driveway. "You actually want to live with other people? I could never..." No, I could never live with people; why on earth would I do that? "You put all your money in a common fund? Never."

We don't do all these things, and even if we do, it probably doesn't look exactly how you'd imagine, but then again, some of these we do. I'm awed at the extreme sense of ownership of every tiny detail of our lives--down to the very thing that was given to us freely--our salvation. It's my car, my house, my money, my church, and my worship service. "It's just me and Jesus!"

Mine, mine, mine.

Sharing is caring.

One can't blame another for having this ownership over things; it is the center of American culture. Get a good degree so you can have a good job and buy lots of things. You will have complete control over your life when you have enough money to live where you want, have what you want, at any time you want.

But my friends, I'll tell you, in my measley experience that sharing is caring, even when your hands have to be pried off of that which you prized so dearly. Once it's out of your hands, you never realized how good it felt to loosen that grip and wiggle those fingers.

So loosen your grip and wiggle your fingers.