Time to Heal--October 7, 2021
"Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint, but rather be healed." [Hebrews 12:12-13]
You are allowed to rest. You are allowed to sigh and unload your burdens at the end of the day. You are allowed to feel on the brink of being overwhelmed--tired already when the day is just starting, even before heading out the door--and then to pause, to breathe, and to receive strength from others. You are allowed to rest before you get to that feeling of being overwhelmed, for that matter, too.
In fact, you are not merely "permitted" to do those things, here's the Bible instructing you to do those very things, so that when you are ready once again, you can go out and face the world again and shine your light.
Somewhere along the way, I think a lot of Respectable Religious folk came to believe that the sentence, "Anything that doesn't kill me makes me stronger," is in the Bible. But it's not--that's Friedrich Nietzsche, you know the same guy whose talk about "the will to power" inspired Hitler and who famously wrote "God is dead--and we have killed him." So, you know, maybe take his pronouncements with a grain (or a box) of salt. No, rather, like the punchline of the late comedian Norm MacDonald put it, sometimes "anything that doesn't kill me still leaves me almost dead." We aren't meant to keep taking relentless punches to our souls without any chance to recover, like some boxer waiting for a bell to end the round that never rings. We are made to heal... and to take the time necessary for that healing, that recharging, that replenishing of our wellsprings when we feel close to running dry.
Christians sometimes slide into this misguidedly Stoic thinking that we are supposed to be permanently exhausted from relentless labor. We tell stories about the apostle Paul moving from town to town, constantly on the run, founding churches and getting into trouble, as though he never had a moment's rest. We cast the life-stories of great reformers and theologians like they were perpetually writing, studying, preaching, teaching, or nailing things to doors, rather than recalling how much time the likes of Wesley, Luther, Francis, Claire, Teresa, and Julian spent being rejuvenated in prayer or having their spirits lifted by the presence of friends and companions. We sometimes cast ourselves in the role of Jesus, who spent his last ounce of strength bearing the pain of the cross and "loved his own to the end," as though we have to be the saviors of the world, too.
But not only is that not a complete picture of Jesus (who also regularly went off on his own to be recharged, to pray, to contemplate, and to be surrounded by friends and laughter), it also misunderstands who we are in all of this. We don't have to be the savior of the world--Jesus has done that. And if we are running a long-distance race in this life--to borrow an image from earlier in Hebrews--we are allowed to pace ourselves. So our verses for today remind us that when the struggles of life (what Hebrews has been calling the "discipline" of learning the Jesus way of life) are wearing us down, the exact right thing to do is to hold up, to ease our weary joints, to prevent permanent damage to our knees where the cartilage seems to be wearing out, to get our strength back, and to avoid the rough terrain for a while, until our feet are ready for the challenge again. That's not the talk of giving up--it's the talk of being good stewards of the flame in us so that it can shine full and long without burning out. It is a commitment to keeping on keeping on in the long run that leads us from time to time to stop for a spell along the way and rest.
I know for a lot of us these days, it can feel like the last year and a half especially has made us feel like we are running on fumes some days. I know it can feel like reality itself is draining more from us, between the challenges at our work-places, the needs of our families, the shortened tempers and the lessened patience all around. And I know that sometimes we can't help but hear some seemingly religious voice in our heads telling us there's no rest for the weary, that we're not allowed to stop, and that we can't even catch our breath lest we fall behind on some important project or need. But here are words from the Scriptures themselves telling us, not merely that we are "allowed" to take the time to let our ankles recover before putting them through another leg of the marathon, but that we need that. Here is a writer of the Bible telling us, as an instruction rather than an invitation, to let our bodies and souls get their strength back so they can last. When a gust of wind comes up, you guard your flickering candle with your cupped hand, not because you are done with the flame, but exactly so that it can keep shining and won't be snuffed out in a sudden breeze. It's the same with our spirits--when we can sense we are on the verge of being blown out, burned out, or spent, it is good and wise stewardship to take a moment to tend to the flame so that it can keep on shining as long as the darkness lasts. That's not weakness, not at all. That's the strength and wisdom of endurance.
I don't know what that looks like for you right now--what the specific stresses are in your life, your world, or your day ahead. But I suspect you may need to hear these words from Hebrews and know that they are spoken to you, and for you, as much as for anybody else. Where your soul needs rest, take it. Where you need fifteen minutes to pray in the silence and let God's Spirit simply wash over you, reclaim them from your calendar. Where you need a day, a week, a season for the practice of sabbath, know that is not a sign of weak faith, but of a faith strong enough to trust that God can keep running the universe without you being on-duty all the time.
In other words, let your wobbly knees find their strength again. Let your tired feet rest and get support where they need them. Let your weary heart hear again that you are beloved and precious in God's sight. And let your spirit have the peace of knowing you can rest where you need it.
You are not merely allowed--you are instructed.
Lord God, give us the rest we seek but so often tell ourselves we cannot have. Give us the peace we are longing for but so often believe is only receivable at the finish line. Give us the strength that comes as grace because we need it, not as a reward because we have earned it.
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