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“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me– watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
Matthew 11.28-30 (The Message)
We have a book, “131 Christians Everyone Should Know,” (from the Editors of Christian History Magazine) which contains snippet bios of Christ-followers from history. The back cover starts like this: “If you think history is boring, take about three minutes and scan through 131 Christians Everyone Should Know. Zero in on an article. You may find you can’t read just one!”
And that is what happened to me. The testimonies of these ancestors of faith are inspiring and compelling. To think about them nudges me to think about what sort of legacy I want to leave, what mark I will make in this world, and the type of life that must be lived in order to do that.
Theresa of Avila committed her life to ministry by becoming a nun in her twenties. But she joined a convent known for its leniency, and considered herself half-hearted, despite her commitment to the spiritual life. “I voyaged on this tempestuous sea for almost 20 years with these risings and fallings,” she wrote in her Autobiography.
The bio in “131 Christians” says this: “Then one day while walking down the hallway in the convent, her glance fell on a statue of the wounded Christ, and the vision of his constant love throughout her inconstancy pierced her heart. Gently but powerfully, she said Jesus began to break down her defenses and reveal to her the cause of her spiritual exhaustion: her dalliance with the delights of sin. She immediately broke with her past, undergoing a final conversion.”
Like the passage in Matthew, like Theresa of Avila, I have found myself spiritually exhausted. The spiritual exhaustion was so draining it led to physical lethargy. The effort of trying to be like Christ while trying to maintain my own way of doing things and seeking my own happiness wore me out. It is easy to miss the cure for this when you feel like you’re already doing the things you are “supposed to do,” and not doing plenty of things you’d like to do.
But then, take a good look at Jesus, who was wounded for me and you and for the people who completely reject Him, and find that His love has never wavered. Ask Him to let you see Him as He is, and not as you are accustomed to perceiving Him. It is hard not to be completely humbled, completely broken, by that Love. And as Theresa of Avila saw, the “delights of sin,” begin to pale in comparison to the pure joy of fellowship with our Resurrected Jesus. It becomes easy to break with the past and run to Him, responding to his call, “Get away with me… Walk with me… Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.”
Thank You, Jesus.
My neighborhood is so beautiful right now. Before we lived here, we’d ride our bikes through and admire the trees arching over the road and the wisteria in bloom. It’s like a carnival of spring colors. I never though I’d dread seeing the blooms. But this year, basically the day that the azaleas and dogwoods and cherry blossoms and a blossoms on the tree our neighbor calls a tulip tree came out, I started sneezing and sniffing. And rubbing my eyes like a toddler ready for bed– ooh the agony, the constancy, the intensity of the itching!
“Uh, you ok?” Brian asked as i stumbled out of bed with bloodshot eyes, or jumped up in the middle of the night for more Kleenex. It was urgent. I basically had “surfer nose” without the surfing. (Surfer nose: when all the water that made its way into your sinus cavities while you were in the ocean makes a sudden re-appearance via your drippy nose. Especially problematic if you surfed before work or on your lunch break.) “I just feel like I’m in a fog,” I complained to Nini (my sister Stephanie, but the Auntie name, NiNi, has just really stuck) who told me “You sound like a Claritin commercial.” But without the Claritin. I’ve been hesitant to take meds because, though several are safe with breastfeeding, they can also adversely affect the milk supply. And Asher, who has cut two teeth now, is not hesitant to let me know if he’s still hungry. Chosen method of communicating dissatisfaction: biting and tugging. Simultaneously. Oh. my. goodness. And ouch.
I think the allergies are waning. And I’ll tell you this: for allergies I can now recommend the Neti Pot, a “natural sinus wash.” Also Reed’s Ginger Beer. Which is not really beer, in the sense that it is non-alcoholic, but is potent stuff. The label says it contains 26 grams of fresh ginger, which is supposed to help burn off congestion. And if you’re really brave, or really desperate, you might try the “Garlic Challenge” a try: eat one clove of raw garlic (a potent natural infection and inflammation fighter.) Though wouldn’t try it if you’re pregnant or sensitive of stomach. And perhaps have something nearby to chase it, cause, again, ouch. But it does help clear things up.
Is it the ginger or is it the rain washing tons of yellow pollen away? I don’t know, but I’m beginning to appreciate spring flowers again.
I love getting rid of things. Not that you would know this from visiting my house… I will finally admit that Mom may have been right in always calling me a “frustrated perfectionist,” (I whole-heartedly denied the ‘perfectionist’ part from about age 12 until, oh, probably a day or so ago. And still… I’m more the frustrated part) What this means is that stacks and piles of papers and projects tend to profligate under my care. I will abandon a wonderful idea just started because I don’t have time to “really do it right,” and then wait for that time when I do have time to do it properly. I’ve begun to catch on to the fact that that time will never come. At least probably not in the next 40 years or so.
That said, i really dislike clutter (Note: my piles of papers and such do not count as clutter, because i know exactly what is in them and that is their proper temporary home) and excess. If the Barbie shoes are left strewn about the house, I’m vacuuming those puppies right up. (Oh, I know. I swore I’d never be the mom that did that kind of thing. I also swore I’d never utter the phrase “Because I said so.” Alas…) And if I’m not wearing it it’s going right to Goodwill. Of course, there is a downside to that: during each of my pregnancies I’ve cleaned out my closet, getting rid of all the clothes I’m sure I’ll never wear again. And each time, a few months later, I’m looking in the closet like, where are my normal clothes? Did I think I was going to be preggo-sized forever?
Brian can tend to be the same way. We’re always looking around, re-evaluating: is this working? Do we need all this “stuff?” Can we pare down? This is not to say we seek a monk-like existence, but that we want to be rid of the excess, keeping just what’s really functional. You know a couple months ago we cut off our cable– from the normal channels to the most basic of cable, with eight or ten channels. I thought there’d be some Noggin (the kids) or TLC and HGTV (me) withdrawal, but no, (fortunately!) life went on just fine.
Now, a few weeks ago we did away with our internet. I know, weird ’cause I’m still here, right? Well, see, if I sit in just the right spot, or put the computer up on top of the bookcase on a clear day, I can catch just enough signal. Sometimes. So we’re saving a little more money each month (always a good thing, right?). And definitely wasting less time. Definitely a good thing. But shoot, I really do miss being able to catch up with your blogs, and your pics and comments and my inbox and posting what’s going on in my brain and life whenever.
Officially it’s spring, and nice and warm. This weekend I plan to unpack my warm-weather clothes. I’m curious to see what’s left after last summer’s pregnant closet-cleaning spree
We were reading and came across the word “sheepish.” Stella stopped me to ask it meant. Well, I told her, if you feel a little silly about something, maybe a little bit embarrassed, that’s sheepish.
I could have told her that sheepish is the way I feel about having a Taylor Swift song stuck in my head (not that there’s anything wrong with that!) and then about being a little excited to hear it playing in the store while we’re out shopping.
Also the way I feel when I open a jar of salsa with some chips, and wonder after my snack “Who ate half the jar of salsa?” And when I’m alone and catch myself singing the theme song to one of the kid’s favorite shows (which are so terribly catchy). Or out on a date with Brian and out of habit I point out, “Oh, look out the window! A shiny red firetruck!”
Yes, I know what it is to feel sheepish. But she may not have quite gotten the context.
