I
am an absolute expert in making things hard.
If
you want to know how to do something the most complicated way possible, come to
me.
I
will write you a thesis, but first of course I will need to find the right pen,
the right paper and have my desk in order.
Then maybe, and I do mean maybe, I will get down to business.
Case
in point.
If
I feel led to make a meal for someone in need.
I haul out all kinds of recipes.
I consider what ‘goes together.’
I reflect on the family’s likes and dislikes, the ages of the children
and exactly what time of day I can deliver the meal, if it can be hot out of
the oven and if instructions are required for warm up.
Then,
because my husband loves me, he suggests we drive through Boston Market.
Complicated
is pretty much my mantra. And this is why the Lord saw fit to pair me with
someone spontaneous. After almost thirty years of marriage, I still have
trouble spelling the word, much less living it.
There
is nothing wrong and sometimes some really good in planning; it is the
pause that is the problem. The pause that planning creates when following after
the things the Holy Spirit is leading us to do.
If
you look at Jesus, He and His life were simple. He was simplistic in direction,
in purpose and in pursuit.
I
can take the most simplistic thing and make it so stinking hard.
I
have been concerned, truthfully very concerned about politics of late. I email
congressmen and senators and I pray HARD.
I stay up late at night thinking about the world we will be leaving our
children and grandchildren. Just recently, as a family, we have started to
invest in very small ways to help sustain the refugees of terrorism.
This
is all good and perhaps even Holy, but it is far away. The truth is simple often starts near.
Near
as in a neighbor, near as in a friend, near as in deciding every morning to
find opportunities to bless or engage or pray.
I
look at my neighbor building his deck next door and decide I am going to bake
him cookies. Before long, I find myself
with no cookies out in the front yard.
He sees me and says hello. I
realize the very best I can offer is not calories but encouragement.
Simple.
I
saw someone, someone that went to our church over a decade ago. I realized their
leaving missed my notice. I can’t remember when it was, what the circumstances
were. I suddenly over compensated wondering
if my not noticing was noticed and should I even say hello. I could have feigned that I didn’t see him at
all. I can be very good at that.
The
words of every Mitford novel I have ever read rushed through my head. The main character, Father Tim, starts every
morning with the simple phrase, “Help me
to be a blessing to someone.”
At
the moment, ‘blessing’ seems at the far end of the complicated spectrum so I
went with simple. I said hello and
conversation ensued.
It
was not me, far from it. It was a move across
country and a debilitating illness. This
gentleman was far from angry, not even resentful, perhaps missing church and
missing fellowship. I promise to pray
and I mean it.
Perhaps
this is the essence of the poverty of spirit.
Eliminating the stuff that weighs us down and operating in the
simple. Not even blessings, but grace, abundant
grace. Grace that walks in by making ourselves available; simple and
straightforward obedience to be in the moment.
I
heard the words of a preacher. He said make
a ripple in the water where you stand. If
we all dip our toes in and if we all act in kindness and react in grace, then if
we all quit being crusaders of the complicated perhaps the simple message of
the gospel will seep out.
Then
my ripple will bump into yours and we will have a wave of grace. And perhaps
all the stuff that weighs us down will suddenly not seem so heavy.
I
am convinced the essence of salvation starts with simplicity. The glory of grace starts in the giving of
one’s mind to the present. It is the
making oneself available to the work of the Holy Spirit and the surrendering of
the soul to things far greater than ourselves.
"Blessed are
the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 5:3
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