It's OK to Not be OK
Luke 9:51-62
51 When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. 52 And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; 53 but they did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem. 54 When his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?”55 But he turned and rebuked them. 56 Then they went on to another village.
57 As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” 58 And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” 59 To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” 60 But Jesus[c] said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” 61 Another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” 62 Jesus said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
“Dawn of Justice” from A Sanctified Art
::Deep breath:: Some days it seems like our very breathe is the last thing we have left that hasn’t fallen to pieces. And some days, when even our own breathe turns ragged; we wonder what more can give.
Lent is often a time when we reflect on giving – what we might give up and what we can give to. Right now, there are so many needs that call us to respond and care and there has been a beautiful outpouring. But perhaps for you, this evening, the idea of giving seems also laughable and even cruel. Even if we are in a position to share, we still cycle through the feeling that too much has been taken than can be accommodated by generosity. Some things are simply gone and no amount of care will bring them back. This season is one where we have historically talked of giving up habits, forgoing indulgences, and/or adding on healthy practices. But that has taken on new meaning when you already have had to give up a warm home, clean water, and the freedom to hug and be freely with friends and loved ones, as well as any semblance of true and enduring peace of mind after being on high alert for a whole year. Even as pieces are restored, the specter of loss gnaws at our hearts.
Perhaps this year, for Lent, we can finally give up the pretense - that it doesn’t hurt, that everything’s fine, or at least that we’ve got a handle on things. Perhaps at least for this season, we can let go of all the ways we try to cover up the gritty mess of life, or the illusion that we’ve successfully hidden it away in the spare closet. Perhaps for a time, we can have the raw and honest look at ourselves and our world that our souls are yearning for.
Jesus looks directly at what will be painful. Jesus looks toward Jerusalem, sets his face upon it, with all that it will be and does not turn away. Jesus is bound for a place that means home, but also suffering, but also redemption and liberation. It is all intertwined together.
There are plenty of things that want to divert us from this way, truth, and life along the way – deep-seeded divisions that stir up our desire for vengeful destruction, our longing for our own comfort that ignores community, and a laundry list of “should”s that want to insist on their priority.
Along the way there are people who want to want to follow Jesus, but first…there’s just one thing they need to resolve. I feel these “but firsts” in my bones. I’ll sit down and be still but first, I just need to do that other thing. I’ll take a break right after I finish this other other thing. Just one more task and I’ll be on solid ground. It’s the same toxic lie that would make us feel bad for not being more productive during a snowpocalypse during a pandemic. I’ll start that new practice, but first I need some time to get x,y, and z together. I’ll be able to be more generous, faithful… (fill in the blank) once I…(fill in the blank). I’ll follow you Jesus, but first, I need to get my stuff in order. These things aren’t always intentionally untrue, nor the work unimportant…but if we always allow them to dictate our lives, we will miss out when the call comes to put something new first. During Lent, the time of “but first” is set aside so that we can re-orient ourselves with what truly needs to be first. This is a season of spiritual detox. This is a time to let our ground lie fallow, to take a break from the cycle of production and accomplishment to allow for a wider view and deeper healing that is transformed into fertile darkness.
There will always be a “but first” that would keep me from the fullness of God’s kingdom that is already germinating among the untidy, mushy, decomposing scraps. Our stuff doesn’t have to be in order to be a part of what God’s doing.
This is a time of holy enough. Enough! “Enough” because all at once, we are reminded and released of the idea that we’ll never achieve this ever-escalating peak of enough and yet we are already immersed in enough. Enough because all our hustle will not be able to bring back what is gone, and yet what we have is sufficient to bring into being something new. Enough because even our heartache, anger, and exhaustion, the things that we fear will break us, bind us up for new ways of being. Because even when we lose, we are not lost.
This morning I read a prayer by Pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber and this part spoke to my soul as I hope it blesses yours: “Dear God...help me to remember that I am not being graded. I am being guided. Guided to see that maybe I have a greater capacity to be ok when everything is horrible than I thought I did, but that it is not limitless, and it does not need to be.” Amen.
As we set our faces toward Jerusalem, the place where we can face the heart of our hurt as well as our healing…where do you notice that experience of holy enough?