the weight of it all

I know I keep dropping the ball, here.  But, it’s so heavy sometimes.

You know what I hate about lifting weights?  They’re heavy.

Especially on a Monday, too.  I know, I know, Monday’s so stinking cliche, it’s ridiculous for a grown man to even bring it up, but still.

Everything seems heavier on Monday, or on any other day that acts like a Monday, and so many of them do these days.

The weight of things, life things, is heavier on those days. 

I’m rambling, but it’s been a while since we just talked.  I’ve had a lot on my mind, heavy stuff, and I’m sure you understand, even though we don’t really talk about it.

Like, why is it that no matter what ungodly hour a kid wakes us up on Sunday morning, we’re always rushing at the last possible minute to get loaded in that bus we drive to get to church?  How is that possible?

All of those kids are so cute and cuddly at 7am, and such monsters at 10am.  How does that happen?  Maybe it’s the cocoa puffs.  Maybe it’s just me.

Anyway, lots  of people were reaching for the Kleenex on Sunday as our pastor talked about caring for the orphans.  I just wiped my nose with my fingers then wiped them on my pants.  But it’s the same effect, I guess.  It was a weighty topic.

We had good conversations with friends afterward, relating some pretty deep things that had transpired in our lives – Renee and me – in the last week, and it felt good in the context of the weight of that sermon to share the load a bit and invite a little help and some understanding.

People’s hearts shift in such settings, I think, and mostly in good, though deeply disturbed, ways.

Obviously, though, our response shouldn’t just be limited to the emotional.  The seeds have to go deep, and that’s more than a Kleenex or a shirt sleeve should be able to wipe away.

Beyond that, though, it’s just the life stuff that gets heavy, don’t you think?  I mean, it’s nearly suffocating sometimes, the weight of it.

Somehow, that weight must be a sampling of the burden that Jesus carries and has carried on our behalf.  Like the way he looked at that fig tree and cursed it for not bearing fruit when it was needed.  That’s a sad story.  So many things are needed.

I think it’s important for us to carry our share of that burden.  To hear the groaning in the hearts and tears of our communities – the people with whom we share life – and to just let the weight of the burden do its work on us and in us.

Not that it should be depressing us or crushing us.  God knows we can’t do this alone and we can’t carry much.  We’re wimpy and we need lots of breaks and lots of help.

But we can do some things, and we can do things beyond just the obvious.

Some days, like Mondays, I just wish we’d get ahold of the idea that Christ is in us.  Whatever that truly means must be more than we’ve taken it to mean.

In the moments we do feel that, we ought to act on it, and maybe that looks like listening intently, and maybe that’s like saying the words that need to be heard, and maybe that looks like crossing the false boundaries our friends have erected in defense of their little facades, or maybe those are our own.

Either way, it’s heavy.

So, in my Monday morning staff meeting, as I tried to believe the events transpiring were important and worthy of my attention, I failed and got distracted, and wrote this in my day-planner:

weight of it all

weight of glory

weight of condescension

weight of existence

weight of obligation

weight of dis-unity

weight of weariness

weight of overwhelming need

weight of the cross

I’m not sure what that means, but I just thought you’d like to share the load.  It was like a Monday morning weight-lifting session, if you know what I mean.  It can be exhausting.

Hannah told me tonight that she read my last few posts on this blog today, and she thought they were kind of sappy, “but in a good way.”  I’m not sure what that means, but I suppose she would say this fits in that category, too.  Next time, maybe we’ll talk about football or something.

10 thoughts on “the weight of it all”

  1. Sometimes this world makes us weary. I’m encouraged to know that even Jesus needed to rest. And I think that we do need to hold each other up when the weight of things becomes overweming – bearing one another’s burdens. And somehow we should do that without getting so far under ourselves. I think that’s when Jesus steps in. He knows just how long we can carry a thing. May the Lord lift you and encourage you as you’ve been willing to share with Him the things that weigh on His heart! Blessings to ALL your family!

    Do you know this song?

    and the miracle of Christ in me
    is the mystery that sets me free
    I’m nothing like I used to be
    just open up your eyes and see…

    I’m counting on, I’m counting God
    I’m counting on, I’m counting on God!

    1. Beth – It’s great to know someone who doesn’t know me that knows what I mean. Thank you! I haven’t known that song, but I’m glad to know it now. Hum a few bars, and I’ll try to pick up the tune.

  2. As I read this I couldn’t help but think of the Lyrics in Hillsong’s song titled HOSANNA:

    Heal my heart and make it clean
    Open up my eyes to the things unseen
    Show me how to love like you have loved me
    Break my heart for what breaks yours
    Everything I am for your kingdom’s cause
    As I walk from earth into eternity.

    Imagine what would happen if 10% of us were willing to experience the weight of it all. What would happen if we truly meant it when we said: “Break my heart for what breaks yours” or “Show me how to love like you have loved me.”

    Thanks for sharing, Dale. Oh, and if you haven’t read Katie’s blog in a while. You should go there. http://www.amazima.org/blog.html. It did me good.

    1. Jeff – Yes, that’s how I’m feeling. It’s funny how I was partly inspired to write this by lyrics from another song, and two other songs are quoted in the comments. We’re all arriving by different means, but at the same place. I love it.

      I have read Katie’s blog – I’m always waiting for her to write, like I’m waiting for my next meal. Glad to see you are, too.

      Thanks!

      1. If you have itunes, check out a podcast by Francis Chan titled Holy Anguish. The first 15 minutes or so is interesting, but unrelated. Once he gets into the message I think you will find it worth your time. You will probably have to search for Cornerstone Simi Valley or Francis Chan to find it. It was a few months ago.

        God Bless,

        Jeff

  3. “but the harder i try, the more clearly can i feel the depth of our fall and the weight of it all. and so this might could be the most impossible thing: your grandness in me making me clean. glory, hallelujah. glory, glory, hallelujah” these lyrics, friend?

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