Lately, I have allowed myself to lean into the notion that
an active spiritual life is simply too hard. It's hard to submit, hard to
sacrifice, hard to obey. Being pushed outside my comfort zone is, well,
uncomfortable. Growing is painful, and because it appears optional, I am
inclined to opt out.
Can I please just cruise along in neutral? Can I, for a
little while, not be challenged by the presence of outragious injustice? Can I
not be required to empathize with suffering patients? Can I not be molded like
that obstinate lump of clay on the potter's wheel? I wouldn't mind spinning
along in blob form for a bit.
I'm tired. Yes.
I am learning that two other things are yes as well.
First, God the Potter is also God the Shepherd, and he promises
to lead me beside quiet waters. The solution to being tired is not to run from
him, but to rest in him. He is the one who calls out, "Come to me, all you
who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yolk upon you and
learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for
your souls." (Matthew 11:28-29) It is he who promises, "A bruised
reed I will not break, a smoldering candle I will not snuff out." (Isaiah
42:3) Oh, have mercy on me, Papa, and keep me burning.
A week ago Sunday, a few of us hung around after house
church. Conversations segued spontaenously back into song. A keyboard, a
guitar, a drum box, a banjo, and a collection of varied worshipers. I could
have stayed there all week. "There is a balm in Gilead to make the wounded
whole."
Second, spiritual growth may be optional (a different
discussion entirely), but spiritual warfare is not. There is a battle going on
for the hostage souls of mankind, and our enemy is not likely to take a holiday
just because I want one. My faith isn't a personality improvement program - a
subscription I can cancel when the bill gets too high. It is a lifeline, the
aorta connecting me to the heart of Jesus Christ. Without that, I would be well
and truly dead. And aside from the obvious drawback of being lifeless
themselves, dead soldiers aren't much use in a fight.
I have been helping Jude, a new volunteer, to set things up
for living in Mae Sot. She found a rental place for cheap because no Thai were
interested in living there. Most Thai's believe in ghosts, and the previous
renter had died of a drug overdose in the house. At the office, everyone congratulated
Jude on her good find. Then, the first night that she spent in that house, she
felt the presence of something evil. She couldn't sleep for the nightmares. So
before she spent another night there, she explained her concern to me. We
agreed that, from all appearances, an evil spirit had made itself at home in
her house, and it needed to be cast out it in Jesus' name. I was out of town
the next day, but everyone who was still in the office went together to the
house with Jude and prayed. The team said they all felt the evil when they came
into the house, and they all felt that it was gone after they had claimed the
space for the Lord.
So it comes to this. Can I clock out spiritually for a long
lunch just because I'm tired? Another yes, but it would be a banally stupid
move.
Excuse myself from the presence of the One who holds the
only real refreshment for my soul? Not a good idea. Strip off my armor while
I'm standing on the front lines? I don't think so.
I hear Jesus asking me, "Many have left me when things
got uncomfortable. You don't want to leave too, do you?" And I say with
Peter, "Lord, to whom shall I go? You have the words of eternal life."
I will stay with you.
