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.