Get Real

I had a wonderful Mother's Day weekend the past few days.  My brother and I drove down from Indianapolis to celebrate our mom, a woman certainly worth celebrating.  She is always our encourager, our biggest fan, a voice of wisdom, and a listening ear.  I'm very thankful for the gift of my mom.

This morning during church, they asked the mothers in the crowd to stand and be recognized as they prayed for these countless women who are often the unsung heroes in our lives.  As my mom sat back down beside me, I glanced over at a woman a few seats away.  She wiped at uninhibited tears that spilled down her cheek.  Her husband reached around the woman and gently rubbed her arm to console her.  "What's her story?  What has caused such pain and anguish in her heart this day?"  I wondered.  Had she lost a son or daughter?  Had motherhood cruelly been stolen from her?  Had anger and bitterness come between her and her child so that they were estranged from one another?  My own heart ached for her, and I longed to walk over and embrace the hurting woman.  I wanted to ask her if she was alright, why she was hurting, and if I could pray for her.  But I didn't.  I didn't know the woman, I didn't know her story, and I didn't cross that boundary line.  I think I should have.  I don't think it mattered that I didn't know her.  It's irrelevant that I wasn't aware of her situation because I could have lovingly asked.  Why do we keep one another at a distance?  It's time to get real.

Romans 12:10 says, "Love one another with brotherly affection."  If my brother Clay is ever hurting, I want to reach out and help him.   I want to console him, to offer solutions, to do what I can to ease the pain or help solve the problem.  And even when there is nothing I can do about it, I want to share in the hurt and the suffering, to bear the burden together.  So should it be in the body of believers.  I'm drawn to Christ's own example in the story of the death of Lazarus.  Mary, Martha, and Lazarus were a brother and sisters who had encountered Jesus and whose lives were forever changed.  They too were very dear to him.  Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. (John 11:5)  When Lazarus became sick, the sisters sent for Jesus.  By the time he arrived, it appeared to be too late and the sisters were deeply grieving in the wake of their brother's death.  Here's a beautiful part of the story.  When Jesus arrived, Mary approached him in her state of absolute sadness and hurt.  Now when Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet, saying to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died."  When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in his spirit and greatly troubled.  And he said, "Where have you laid him?  They said to him, "Lord, come and see."  Jesus wept.  (John 11: 32-36)  In her hurt, Mary approached her Lord with a bit of an accusatory statement.  She was grieving.  And although the all powerful and mighty Lord of all things can and is about to work a miracle (Spoiler alert: Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead foreshadowing his own forthcoming death and resurrection and brings all glory and praise to His name!), He's present in the moment and He joins here where she is.  He doesn't avoid Mary or act as if her pain isn't important.  No, he is moved to share in her suffering and he weeps for the loss that she has experienced.

I don't know everyone I encounter, but I do know that there is a world of hurt and pain out there every day.  The men and women I work with, the people I pass in the grocery store, the brothers and sisters in Christ who I worship and grow with on Sunday mornings.....they too are fighting their own battles and carrying burdens that may seem more than they can bear.  It's my prayer that each of us will get real, that we won't back away but will lovingly approach and move toward.  May we talk with, sit with, weep with, pray with, and be with one another in the blessings and the struggles.  May we get real and hurt along with them.  As we do so, let us help direct their focus to Jesus, for He not only feels our pain but is the only One who saves, the One who heals, the One who takes the broken pieces and puts them back together again.  He's the real deal, the Giver of joy and fullness of life!      

Still

Today is the first day of May which means that the last leg of the school year has arrived.  It reminds me a bit of last spring when I ran a half marathon; mile 1 was a breeze, mile 5 I was feeling great, mile 8 I was pushing through, but when I got to mile 12 I was wiped.  I had been going, moving, shuffling, pushing onward, and I was tired.  This seems to be the conundrum of my life lately.  I love to go, to be with people, to embrace life and its fullness instead of sitting at home.  So I plan, I write down dates and times in my calendar, and I go go go.  And then I'm simply tired.  Okay, time to slow down the pace a bit, I tell myself.  I leave blanks squares in my planner, days that are only committed to work and no evening plans.  Yet even as I plop down on the couch on such an evening, my mind races as I reach for the notepad on my living room table.  I begin making a to-do list: laundry, grade papers, finish lesson plans, etc.  After all, if I'm going to be at home I should probably use that time wisely, right?  It turns out that this is not really very restful either and, although my body feels repose, my mind races and paces.  What my heart desires is truly not a furious pace masked as relaxation.  Instead, I must tell myself, Be still my soul.

I am meditating on two verses that I'm letting my heart embrace in this:

And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done.  (Genesis 2:2)

He had done work, but there was a time for the work to be done and rest away from it to occur.  I too have work/tasks to attend to, yet there is a time to lay them aside and simply find respite.

Be still, and know that I am God... (Psalm 46:10)

This one's a favorite.  I love this because it gives two commands.  The first is the one I desire so much, and the second one knocks me back a few feet.  First, be still.  Quit worrying about the demands and the whirlwind of activity that can take precedence.  Be still.  That's pretty hard though, right?  Because I can really let my body and mind be still, but what about all those things that we're letting go?  ...and know that I am God...  That one's pretty much a smack in the face of my ego.  Those other things; they're actually not all that important.  Christ is the The One who deserves my attention, my meditation, my thoughts, and my focus a zillion times more than a silly daily demand does.  And you know, so what if I drop the ball and don't get all those other things done?  So what if someone's a little upset that I said no to this or that activity.  That's alright. 

Rest.  Be quiet.  Be still and know, be still my soul.