Holy Rest

A story is told of some American missionaries who were traveling to a remote location somewhere in Africa.  The last part of their route had no roads, only narrow trails.  They had to walk.  These missionaries had quite a bit of baggage, so they hired a group of local people to be their porters, and carry all that baggage.  Together they hiked across rocky plains and they forded streams, they walked narrow paths with dangerous drop-offs, and they camped each night.  For three days, the Americans set a brisk pace, stopping only when it got dark, getting up early to head on down the trail. The local people followed along.  

On noon of the fourth day, they stopped for lunch in the shade by a river. After a half hour the missionaries were ready to hit the road again.  The local people were all sitting on the baggage under some shade trees, watching the river and talking quietly.  They ignored the calls and hand-waving of their bosses.  The Americans got frustrated.  “Tell them it’s time to go,” they told their translator.  After a brief consultation, the translator came back and reported, “They say they cannot go any further until their souls catch up with their bodies.” 

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Brea Congregational United Church of Christ

June 17, 2018

God’s Rhythm

Psalm 127:1-2  Unless the LORD builds the house,

                        those who build it labor in vain.

            Unless God guards the city,

                        the guard keeps watch in vain.

            It is in vain that you rise up early

                        and go late to rest,

            eating the bread of anxious toil;

                        for God gives sleep to his beloved.

Mark 6:30-32   The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught.  31 He said to them, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat.  32 And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. 

A story is told of some American missionaries who were traveling to a remote location somewhere in Africa.  The last part of their route had no roads, only narrow trails.  They had to walk.  These missionaries had quite a bit of baggage, so they hired a group of local people to be their porters, and carry all that baggage.  Together they hiked across rocky plains and they forded streams, they walked narrow paths with dangerous drop-offs, and they camped each night.  For three days, the Americans set a brisk pace, stopping only when it got dark, getting up early to head on down the trail. The local people followed along. 

On noon of the fourth day, they stopped for lunch in the shade by a river. After a half hour the missionaries were ready to hit the road again.  The local people were all sitting on the baggage under some shade trees, watching the river and talking quietly.  They ignored the calls and hand-waving of their bosses.  The Americans got frustrated.  “Tell them it’s time to go,” they told their translator.  After a brief consultation, the translator came back and reported, “They say they cannot go any further until their souls catch up with their bodies.” 

Does anybody else besides me routinely set a pace for living so that your soul has trouble catching up with your body?  Our culture teaches us that more is better.  More work, more play, more self-improvement, more bargain hunting, more achievement, more volunteering, more efficiency, more, more, more…  Letting your soul catch up with your body is not part of that program.

The bread of anxious toil, the psalmist calls it. I’m not sure what that means, but it’s good poetry.  When we are running from one activity to the next, how will we make room for the sacred?  For caring?  For wisdom?  How will we recognize and appreciate the gifts we are given? Tending relationships takes time. How will we listen to the signals of our own bodies, our hearts, telling us what we need to thrive?

As we transition to summer, it’s a good time to remind ourselves that we can take holy rest.  Time for pondering and praying, for receiving the beauty of the earth and the love of our friends and family.  Rest is not a luxury.  Rest is biblically sound, and medically sound, and ethically sound.

Burnout can come from working so long and hard that our bodies crash.  But more often burnout comes from feeling anxious and discouraged, despairing and disconnected from what matters.  From not attending to our souls.

The antidote to burnout is not just rest, but holy rest, time spent remembering who we are, and whose we are. Our worth does not come from what we produce.  We are not human doings.  Our worth is assured.  We are children of a God who loves us beyond measure.  We don’t have to earn that love by working harder or faster.  We are human beings, not human doings.

I learned my adult faith from Methodists.  Their founder John Wesley said:

            Do all the good you can,
            In all the ways you can,
            To all the people you can,

            Just as long as you can.

That’s a great slogan.  In practice, it can be exhausting.  Methodists keep busy.  They have more committees than UCCers.  They have many collections for many good causes. Their regional meetings make our regional meetings look short.  When I talked to my good friend Joy about what her Methodist church in Newport Beach (same size as ours) has been up to, I felt jealous.  Then I thought about it a little longer, and I felt relieved.

I will be brainstorming this summer what we can do to have fun and learn and love and serve God.  You are allowed to remind me I am no longer a Methodist.  You are allowed to say “no thanks” to my bright idea when you need time for your soul to catch up to your body.  You are allowed to do what you do around here not for efficiency; but do it for love, with heart, with passion, with imagination.

When we slow down, it can happen that some things we were running from catch up with us.  Fears, guilts, disappointed expectations, griefs.  They were there all along though we were too busy to recognize them; they were stealing our freedom and our joy. 

This is how I usually realize that my soul needs to catch up with my body, when I can’t enjoy what I’m doing.  When I finally feel bad enough, I stop and ask myself, “What’s going on here?”  I discover what it is that’s been making me eat that bread of anxious toil, and then I can give it over to God. It’s me avoiding that one thing I really do need to do, or worrying about how to fix that thing that it’s not my job to fix. When I slow down, pray about it, talk it through with a buddy, and sleep on it, what I need to do and what I need to let go become clear. I get peace, lightness. I see that path forward. I longer eat the bread of anxious toil.

When we get in touch with the huge needs in the world, we can feel guilty if we’re not stepping up for every good cause.  How can we relax when climate change is accelerating?  How can we take time off when our democracy seems to be unraveling? And what about the migrant children?  It can tear us apart. Yet our anxiety only reinforces the climate of fear that oppresses us all.  We can exhaust ourselves without accomplishing anything.

In order to show up for the deep challenges of our time, we need to be firmly rooted in our sacred identity as children of God, co-creators of hope and healing.  We need to hang on to our souls for dear life.  We will burn out or tune out unless we find God’s rhythm.  It takes time to grieve.  It takes time to pray and do my homework, sleep on it, and wait to discover: what is one small thing I can do that might make a difference.  Not fix the problem.  That’s way beyond my pay grade.  If I imagine we have to fix these things, I will burn out. 

But we are not alone. It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for God gives sleep to God’s beloved.  And we are each of us God’s beloved. God is with us, in us, ready to help, if we slow down and listen. Also, find a buddy or a mentor, because it’s easier to hear God with a little perspective on the issue.  Asking for help takes time too!

God would love to collaborate with us to create something wonderful.  In order to do that, we might have to make space in our busy lives, set aside our preconceived ideas, and listen.  Maybe for a still small voice.  Maybe for the voice of a wise companion. And maybe listen to our own heart.

And what will you and God create?  Maybe just a peaceful heart.  “Just” a peaceful heart. Maybe you will create a Spirit-filled space to listen and love and just be.  “Just” be.  Maybe the seed of an idea that will be a long time growing into something you can’t yet imagine.  Maybe you and God will create the courage to do one small thing that is most needed.  Or the wisdom not to do that thing that really won’t help. 

Meditation is one tool we can use to slow down and let our souls catch up to our bodies.  Jesus said, Come away to a wild place all by yourselves and rest a while.   In your mind’s eye, picture a place in nature to rest, and imagine yourself there. Let it be a beautiful place, a sacred place.  A place where your soul can catch up to your body; where you experience the sacred and find hope.

Here is a poem by Ted Loder that I have on my phone, for when I need it:

Gentle me,

Holy One,

into an unclenched moment,

      a deep breath,

            a letting go

                        of heavy expectancies,

                                    of shriveling anxieties

                                                of dead certainties.

that, softened by the silence,

      surrounded by the light,

            and open to the mystery,

I may be found by wholeness,

      upheld by the unfathomable,

            entranced by the simple

                        and filled with the joy

                           that is you.

Amen.