On Having Mass--July 11, 2017
"You Philippians indeed know that in the early days of the gospel, when I left Macedonia, no church shared with me in the matter of giving and receiving, except you alone. For even when I was in Thessalonica, you sent me help for my needs more than once. Not that I seek the gift, but I seek the profit that accumulates to your account. I have been paid in full and have more than enough; I am fully satisfied, now that I have received from Ephaphroditus the gifts you sent, a fragrant offering, a sacrifice acceptable and pleasing to God." [Philippians 4:15-18]
"I just don't want to be... a burden."
I don't know how many times I have heard that sentiment expressed, whether in those precise words or in some other manner of speaking. "I just don't want to be a burden," people say, "to my family... to my friends... to anybody." Parents say it, looking at their children and at the future, and anxiously wishing they will not develop some kind of debilitating sickness that makes them dependent on their kids some day. Kids say it in young adulthood as they weigh the question of how long they should live with their parents before they move out--and they worry about it when they apply for jobs or choose a major in college, nervously hoping there will be a future in their chosen career path. Friends say it to themselves, questioning in their minds whether they dare confide in the other about whatever heartache or need is on the horizon, because they do not want to be the friend who dumps on everyone else all the time.
All of that is to say, chances are, you have spoken that sentence, or at least wished that wish, "I don't want to be a burden," at some point along the way in your life.
And while we are just getting things out in the open, let's call that wish what it is--really, it is a fear. We are afraid of being burdensome to others. We are afraid of being dependent on others. We are afraid of straining the relationships of love in our lives by bringing our needs to others, because deep deep down, we are afraid that the elastic will give out, and the love will snap, and those we had asked to help carry our load will say, "No."
That means that really and truly, our fear of being a burden is just a polished-up way of saying we are afraid of being rejected because we aren't carrying our share, and we are afraid of having to see the uncomfortable reality that we aren't self-sufficient. We try and make this sound all brave and noble and virtuous by saying it in a folksy, low-key way with a shrug, "Awww, shucks, I just don't wanna put you to no trouble... I don't want to be a burden...." but really we are covering our own fear. We don't want to have to see that we are dependent on others... and we are afraid that if others see we depend on them, that they will reject us. It turns out that's not really noble--that's just being fearful without wanting to say so.
And then I see these words of Paul the apostle's, where he just flatly and unapologetically talks about how he relied on the generosity of his friends in Philippi when he was going through a particularly rough patch in his life. And that's saying something for Paul--as he would have been glad to tell you, he lived through shipwrecks, beatings, imprisonments, riots, stonings, and being run out of town on a regular basis. And in the worst times of his life, in the hardest times, he did indeed receive help from others. He had been--gulp--a burden.
But instead of denying it, or pretending it didn't mean anything, or just sweeping it under the rug, Paul underlines it, highlights it, and calls attention to the generosity of the sisters and brothers in Christ who learned and developed their skill at giving... by having the chance to give when he was the one in need. Paul was able to get over himself, and the fear of "what people will think" or whether folks would "respect him less", because he knew that his own need was also the laboratory for others to grow in their practice of love. Paul owns his need--and lets it become the opportunity for the Reign of God to take shape in the lives and love of others. They would learn how to be generous, how to give without being condescending or patronizing jerks, and how to give without pity, by loving Paul. That is to say, they carried Paul when he was a burden... and so they built up their own spiritual muscles, the way you develop muscle tone by lifting weights.
Do you think Paul hadn't gone through his own phase of imagining he was an island, invulnerable and self-sufficient? Do you think Paul hadn't gone through his own fear of being a burden? He was just like us in that way--he had to stumble over his own ego, and wrestle with his own sense of worth, and figure out how to deal with his own pride and imagined self-portrait of not needing anybody else. And at the end of it, Paul just gave up on the illusion and owned it, "Yes... there are times when I am going to be a burden. And I will need to lean on the strong arms of those Jesus has put around me to carry that weight for a while, and I will have to swallow my pride and let them do it." Like Simon Peter letting Jesus wash his feet, like Jesus himself asking the Samaritan woman for a drink of water, there are those moments when the most faithful thing you can do is to own your need.
So, I'm going to try and listen to Paul's example today. I'm not going to wince at the thought of sometimes being a burden to other people who love me. In fact, I fully expect I'm going to be a burden to my kids one day--how else will they learn to love rightly, if they don't have me to practice on? I don't mean that I'm going to go rack up gambling debts and make my children take extra jobs at night to pay off my liabilities while I sit on the couch and eat chips. But I mean that in the course of life, just the normal course of life, I know it--and maybe Paul is teaching me not to be ruled by the fear of it any longer--there will come times when I am a burden to people I love. There will be days of deep sadness when I lean on someone else to pick up the pieces of my heart. There will be days when I get sick, and I need someone else to pick up the slack that I cannot pull. There will be times when I am in one of those dark nights of the soul and will reach out to my kids, at whatever age they are then, to pull me out into the light. There will be times I am a burden.
There will be times for each of us to be a burden on others we count on to love us--we cannot not be. After all, burden is just another word for weight, and anything of substance in this life has weight to it. The only thing in this universe that doesn't have any mass is light.... and as another New Testament voice says, God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all. But for anybody else in creation, we have, and we are, loads to be carried. The quicker we are honest about it, the quicker we can be free from the fear of being a burden. We will simply own it, rather than being ruled by the fear of something as inescapable as gravity.
That brings up a helpful point here, too--when we say that Mercy moves us beyond the country of fear, it doesn't mean that the scary things in the world vanish. It means we are freed from being ruled by them. To say that the grace of God is leading me beyond fear of being a burden does not mean I won't be a burden to anybody--it means I no longer have to live in the fear of it happening, or the fear of being rejected because I don't pull my weight, or the fear of seeing I am not self-sufficient. If I am held in the arms of mercy, if I am carried in nail-scarred hands, I will trust that embrace to hold me, no matter how heavy I am or for how long. And maybe with all the energy I save from not having to cover up my own neediness, I will have the ability to help carry someone else today who needs it on this day.
My turn will come in its own good time. I'm just not afraid of it anymore.
Lord God, carry us, and let us allow ourselves to be carried by the people you put in our lives... and give us the grace to carry others when it is their turn, as well.
All of that is to say, chances are, you have spoken that sentence, or at least wished that wish, "I don't want to be a burden," at some point along the way in your life.
And while we are just getting things out in the open, let's call that wish what it is--really, it is a fear. We are afraid of being burdensome to others. We are afraid of being dependent on others. We are afraid of straining the relationships of love in our lives by bringing our needs to others, because deep deep down, we are afraid that the elastic will give out, and the love will snap, and those we had asked to help carry our load will say, "No."
That means that really and truly, our fear of being a burden is just a polished-up way of saying we are afraid of being rejected because we aren't carrying our share, and we are afraid of having to see the uncomfortable reality that we aren't self-sufficient. We try and make this sound all brave and noble and virtuous by saying it in a folksy, low-key way with a shrug, "Awww, shucks, I just don't wanna put you to no trouble... I don't want to be a burden...." but really we are covering our own fear. We don't want to have to see that we are dependent on others... and we are afraid that if others see we depend on them, that they will reject us. It turns out that's not really noble--that's just being fearful without wanting to say so.
And then I see these words of Paul the apostle's, where he just flatly and unapologetically talks about how he relied on the generosity of his friends in Philippi when he was going through a particularly rough patch in his life. And that's saying something for Paul--as he would have been glad to tell you, he lived through shipwrecks, beatings, imprisonments, riots, stonings, and being run out of town on a regular basis. And in the worst times of his life, in the hardest times, he did indeed receive help from others. He had been--gulp--a burden.
But instead of denying it, or pretending it didn't mean anything, or just sweeping it under the rug, Paul underlines it, highlights it, and calls attention to the generosity of the sisters and brothers in Christ who learned and developed their skill at giving... by having the chance to give when he was the one in need. Paul was able to get over himself, and the fear of "what people will think" or whether folks would "respect him less", because he knew that his own need was also the laboratory for others to grow in their practice of love. Paul owns his need--and lets it become the opportunity for the Reign of God to take shape in the lives and love of others. They would learn how to be generous, how to give without being condescending or patronizing jerks, and how to give without pity, by loving Paul. That is to say, they carried Paul when he was a burden... and so they built up their own spiritual muscles, the way you develop muscle tone by lifting weights.
Do you think Paul hadn't gone through his own phase of imagining he was an island, invulnerable and self-sufficient? Do you think Paul hadn't gone through his own fear of being a burden? He was just like us in that way--he had to stumble over his own ego, and wrestle with his own sense of worth, and figure out how to deal with his own pride and imagined self-portrait of not needing anybody else. And at the end of it, Paul just gave up on the illusion and owned it, "Yes... there are times when I am going to be a burden. And I will need to lean on the strong arms of those Jesus has put around me to carry that weight for a while, and I will have to swallow my pride and let them do it." Like Simon Peter letting Jesus wash his feet, like Jesus himself asking the Samaritan woman for a drink of water, there are those moments when the most faithful thing you can do is to own your need.
So, I'm going to try and listen to Paul's example today. I'm not going to wince at the thought of sometimes being a burden to other people who love me. In fact, I fully expect I'm going to be a burden to my kids one day--how else will they learn to love rightly, if they don't have me to practice on? I don't mean that I'm going to go rack up gambling debts and make my children take extra jobs at night to pay off my liabilities while I sit on the couch and eat chips. But I mean that in the course of life, just the normal course of life, I know it--and maybe Paul is teaching me not to be ruled by the fear of it any longer--there will come times when I am a burden to people I love. There will be days of deep sadness when I lean on someone else to pick up the pieces of my heart. There will be days when I get sick, and I need someone else to pick up the slack that I cannot pull. There will be times when I am in one of those dark nights of the soul and will reach out to my kids, at whatever age they are then, to pull me out into the light. There will be times I am a burden.
There will be times for each of us to be a burden on others we count on to love us--we cannot not be. After all, burden is just another word for weight, and anything of substance in this life has weight to it. The only thing in this universe that doesn't have any mass is light.... and as another New Testament voice says, God is light, and in him there is no darkness at all. But for anybody else in creation, we have, and we are, loads to be carried. The quicker we are honest about it, the quicker we can be free from the fear of being a burden. We will simply own it, rather than being ruled by the fear of something as inescapable as gravity.
That brings up a helpful point here, too--when we say that Mercy moves us beyond the country of fear, it doesn't mean that the scary things in the world vanish. It means we are freed from being ruled by them. To say that the grace of God is leading me beyond fear of being a burden does not mean I won't be a burden to anybody--it means I no longer have to live in the fear of it happening, or the fear of being rejected because I don't pull my weight, or the fear of seeing I am not self-sufficient. If I am held in the arms of mercy, if I am carried in nail-scarred hands, I will trust that embrace to hold me, no matter how heavy I am or for how long. And maybe with all the energy I save from not having to cover up my own neediness, I will have the ability to help carry someone else today who needs it on this day.
My turn will come in its own good time. I'm just not afraid of it anymore.
Lord God, carry us, and let us allow ourselves to be carried by the people you put in our lives... and give us the grace to carry others when it is their turn, as well.
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