Our church was packed to the very edges yesterday. I think churches probably experience New Years surges kind of like gyms. Churches get a nice bump in attendance, in the same way that gyms find themselves overcrowded. People all want a fresh start. That’s human, always looking for a way to be better, to balance out some karmic score.
It seems like my pastor is bringing out the really foundational, basic truths and really convicting tidbits while he has the rows filled up. He said this yesterday and my head jerked up from my notes.
“The thing I think is killing us–as people and as a church–is our pace.”
You know? I completely agree.
I have always lived in towns that are among the most high-achieving in the nation. Real Top-10-Cities-to-Reside in magazines published for the semi-elite of us. Tiny little metropolises packed with straight A students, inhabited by sons and daughters of doctors and lawyers. The underlying melody that pushes us all on is “be more, do better”.
When we moved to Charlotte, we lived in a suburb north of the city and I swear we must of picked it because it felt just like the home of our youth. It was every bit the same kind of shiny, middle-class, hard-working, put-together suburb.
But we were lucky enough to have a Pastor who felt his call in life was the preach to the overachievers, to practice rest among the busy, to speak slow as a way of life. This changed everything for me. Every thing. He was the first person I really believed when he said I couldn’t work hard enough for God’s favor. Every other person who had ever told me that was still running around like a crazy person trying to earn it. They sounded like double-speaking cheshire cats, unknowingly fat on their pride. They knew the truth and so preached it, but didn’t believe the truth so they ran off chasing God’s pleasure. That’s a special wickedness of the deceived, unintentional but still so dangerous.
We went to a church where the Pastor believed a slow and quiet life was valuable, who believed overcommitment was a spiritual disease, and who believed achievement was strangling us. So, as it happens, the church was filled with people who really believed the same. I met the most incredible, encouraging friends in that season. People who were up to spend time together at any moment, because they had margin. People who invited people into their homes because they had space. People who actually believed they had nothing to offer outside of God’s grace.
Better one handful with tranquillity than two handfuls with toil and chasing after the wind. – Ecclesiastes 4:6 NIV
Hold one hand full of the lot you’ve been given, but keep the other hand open. Keep it open as a spiritual discipline. Keep it open as an act of counter-cultural bravery. Keep it open so you’re ready to move, act, or give when He asks.
What is occupying your second hand? Is it that storage unit you have for the stuff you don’t care about? Is it the 3 sports each of your 3 children play? Is it climbing the corporate ladder so you can make marginally more than you do today so you can buy something marginally better than you already have? Is it anxiety? Is it unforgiveness or disappointment? What is keeping you busy and occupied and in maintenance mode?
When someone asks how you are, what do you say? My default is either “Crazy busy!” or “Kinda tired…”, and both are like badges of honor in a high-achieving culture. They are a humble brag just barely disguised. They are the timbre of our modern society, and they are strangling the life out of our days.
This year, I’m aiming for tranquility with one hand open and ready. I’m over crazy busy and kinda tired.
