Lent Day 14-15: Done

I couldn't do it yesterday. I kept thinking, "Later!" And then, I finished my newsletter articles at 10:45 pm, after a wonderful and challenging meeting that was all about our congregation's financial health... and I was done.

Done!

Not even the energy for an episode of my new TV crush, "This Is Us." (I know. I'm three years behind. This is how I do TV. I never catch up.)

... Let alone the energy to bring myself into the presence of scripture with the intention of writing something intelligible (or even... ok).

But it's ok. It really is.

... for you, God, have been my help,
    and in the shadow of your wings I sing for joy.
My soul clings to you;
    your right hand holds me fast.   ~ 63:7-8

In those moments when we are done, we can be done. In those moments when the tank is utterly empty, and is running on what is only the wistful memory of fumes, God our Helper steps in...

[Side note: I know I want this to be more spiritual reflection than bible study, but.... I yam what I yam, as Popeye said... The word for "help," or "helper" in Hebrew is ezer. This is the same word that is used in the second Genesis creation story, the one in which God seeks to make a "helper" for the lonely human. That helper is the woman, and then, for the first time, woman and man are differentiated. But the word "helper" is used in scripture, almost exclusively, for God. God is our first, and, of course, greatest, helper. Womankind, behold the royal nature of what it means to be a "helper." It is a God-infused and noble role. There is no sound biblical argument that it implies otherwise.]

I can find it so hard to rest in the care of my Helper. I don't believe I am alone in that. Last night I hung on, on the computer, because my newsletter stuff was already 6 (gulp!) days late, and that's just wrong. And in a fit of-- well, of knowing that next week looks much the same, I got a start on the Wednesday midweek bulletin.

You know how it goes. We get into a mindset that it all depends on us. (I mean, some stuff does. I'm the only one who can write my newsletter article.)

When does that start? When do we get the message that we are responsible for All of It, and buy into it? Even as a pastor of a church, that is a false understanding of what it means to serve in my role. There are always other companions in this work, and I'm at my healthiest when I realize it.

A couple of years ago I caught "Big Little Lies," the HBO series based on the great Liane Moriarty novel. There's a high-powered, but somewhat frustrated-with-her-life character, Madeline Martha McKenzie, and she has a daughter, a 6 or 7-year-old named Chloe. Chloe is obsessed with music-- all kinds, she's a musical omnivore-- and she's also obsessed with finding the right music for every situation. In particular, she seems to be responsible-- she seems to have assumed responsibility-- for curating her mother's moods.

Darby Camp as Chloe McKenzie in "Big Little Lies." 

I recognized myself in Chloe. I was that daughter to my mother. It's a role that inevitably leads to stress, and then a fissure, and then a rupture, if the child is going to develop in healthy way. At some point, she will need to put her own emotional needs before her mother's.

I was responsible, at a fairly young age, for All of It.

No longer.

I am responsible for myself, and to be God's person in a world where God's love is badly needed. I am responsible in particular and intense ways to my beloveds, from my partner and children to my friends and congregants. But I am also responsible for letting God hold it all with me. I am responsible for remembering that I am not God, and for living and acting accordingly.

This means, for one thing, taking Sabbath.

Which, as it happens, I am about to do, right now.

I am responsible for remembering that God is my helper-- the most powerful, the most loving, the most understanding, the most tender knower of my faults and sins-- and for letting God in.

God's powerful right hand holds me, holds me fast.

Even.... especially.... when I am done.