Are You Busy This Afternoon?

I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd been reading about a crazy-busy housewife-mother-writer-realtor. Her plate was full. She confessed to wishing she could get sick enough for a short hospital stay -- nothing too serious, just enough for a couple of days where she could be doted on, where she could choose not to answer the phone, where she could watch hours of her favorite shows or read in quiet. And here I thought I was the only one twisted enough to wish such a thing. Who would choose meal after meal of hospital food just to get a rest? Hey, it always tastes better when someone else cooks, right?

The truth is, I had such an experience. I hate to say it, but it was almost wonderful. I wasn't so sick I was languishing near death, but my condition was volatile enough the doctors were not willing to send me home. So, I rested without so much as the sound of my own voice to keep me company. I read and listened to music day after day. I walked through hospital hallways. I prayed and wrote for hours on end. I watched the birds outside my window (I did, I really did.) Almost a solid week of doing some of the things I love most. When I first got sick, my skin was crawling, my heart was racing, I couldn't sleep, I was losing muscle mass at a ridiculous rate -- I not only felt like something was wrong, anyone could see something was wrong. I looked sick. And people gave me a pass. And I gave me a pass. I was sick. I needed to rest. Something within me told me it was okay to do that now. And that, my friends, is just sad.

If you are anything like me, you've got twenty-four hours in your day but that will never stop you from planning at least thirty-hours worth of things to do. There are days when, I look at the clock, tell myself, "I'm making great time. If I get this finished, I can actually read a bit and get a full night's sleep." But then -- without even considering the consequences -- I "notice" a dozen other things that must be finished before I get any sleep at all. I'm not kidding! I know I do it to myself. I am compulsively busy. When I'm longing for serenity, chances are, it's because I have created the commotion. When I'm longing for a shorter list, chances are, it's because I have added more to the one I've got. There is no one else responsible for my busyness but me. Sitting around a hospital proved that. If I have to be locked away -- away from things to do --  it can only be that I am really saving myself from me.

I'm not the first, however, and I am certainly not alone. This is such a problem, this busyness, the Bible records the account of another compulsive doer like me. (Read her story here.) She not only missed out on really great company -- the best -- but she blamed her sister for not being just like her! By sucking her sister into her vortex, she would make her own behavior appear normal. That's bad. By chastising her sister, she was really saying, "She expects me to do all this stuff by myself!" That's worse. When I told myself my husband would "be okay with me taking a walk on a beautiful day since I have cancer," what I was really saying was, "Normally my husband expects perfection, but he's being nicer to me since I'm sick." Well, he was nicer to me when I was sick, but he certainly doesn't expect me to push myself to sleeplessness and pain and neurosis any other time. The only one who expects that from me is me!

The more closely I walk with Jesus, the more He shows me what I do or don't need to take care of. Jesus wants to love me. He has always loved me. He wants me to rest and care for everything He has given me. He doesn't want me to be reckless with my time or my family. He doesn't want me bingeing on trash TV or cases of Thin Mints. He doesn't want me developing an addiction to anything but Him. And He doesn't want me to run myself into the ground because I can't stop being busy. Malachi 3:10 says:

"'Bring all the tithes into the storehouse,

That there may be food in My house,

And try Me now in this,'

Says the Lord of hosts,

'If I will not open for you the windows of heaven

And pour out for you such blessing

That there will not be room enough to receive it.'"

It all belongs to Him. My schedule, my time, my desires, my purpose. It's all His. When I'm creating things to do (and labeling it "Others' Expectations") I am taking what is His and being a martyr for my own glory. I am holding back that which He has given me and missing out on a blessing, the blessing of surrender. Letting go and letting God. 

Seeking Jesus Can Be No Accident

When my two oldest children were small, we opened a box of Cheerios to find a Batman figure. Yes, it was supposed to be there. That silly little statue was the impetus of a game our family has played for years. It goes like this: hide Batman where he is best found when no one is looking for him. Simple, right? Batman has spent time in a bottle of Tylenol, has lurked behind leftovers in the fridge, on top of a wall clock, inside boxes and cans and all manner of jars, has waited patiently under pillows and in pockets. (He is currently hiding in the Q-tips, but keep that to yourselves, okay?) This tiny plastic doppelganger has actually traveled with us from time to time, popping up in suitcases when we least expect it. It's a strange game, I know, but it's all about the discovery. We don't expend serious effort seeking Batman -- much more fun to come across him as we go about our daily routines. Open a drawer -- Hey! Grab a tissue -- What?!

In John 5:1-13, Jesus was in Jerusalem for a feast. Near the temple was a pool believed to have healing properties. People would gather around, waiting for the water to bubble up or stir, and -- "First one in gets the healing!" Jesus approached a man who'd been ill for thirty-eight years. "Do you want to be made well," He asked. But the man explained how, without someone to help him into the pool, he'd never be first in. Why did the man remain there? He didn't cry out to Jesus, "Hey, Mister! When the pool bubbles the next time, do You think You could help me in?" No, he just laid there quietly day after day. In fact, even when he made his excuse to Jesus, it wasn't followed by a request for help. That was it, just a "Yeah, I don't think healing is for me." Have you ever felt that way? "Oh, I never win anything." Or, "Why should I try? I'm too old." Or, "People will just think I'm foolish if I sign up." Or, even, "I don't think God knows I'm here." Sometimes we just love self-pity, don't we? So much so, we look for others who are getting ahead, we look for others' great successes, just so we can prove our point. "See, that never happens for me." We choose to hang out in that place where we can remain a victim.

God didn't build me like a super model - more like a linebacker. My shoulders are wide. My figure is more like a digital alarm clock than an hour glass. Even my feet -- Scott calls them my "Freds" (as in Flintstone) -- come to rest at the bottom of short, stubby legs. I'd like to tell you I am completely at peace with all of that, but I'm not. From time to time I find myself surrounded by "The Beautiful People." I'm not certain these people exist anywhere outside of my self-pity, but there I am, pulling and tugging at my clothes, trying to suck in my gut or make my hair do what I imagined it should do. The experience usually ends with me telling myself how I'll never measure up, and vowing to turn down any further invitations. Why try, right? Guess what happens the next time I'm asked to attend. I go. But do I go with a new attitude? Do I go with the belief others want me there because they enjoy my company? Do I go with the knowledge they're not looking at my chunky fingers or my thin eyebrows? No, I go to wallow. (And I miss out on a great time when I wallow.)

The man near the pool seemed to have given up on any notion of a new life. He may not have been in a healing pool, but he seems to have been wallowing in a pool of self-pity. He wasn't seeking help; he didn't seek it from Jesus. But he didn't know who Jesus was. You see, the Bible tells us that while we were sinners, enemies of God, Jesus died for our sins. That is who He is! One so magnanimous, so gracious, so powerful, so loving, He died for our reconciliation, even when we weren't seeking after Him, even when we weren't interested in what He had to offer, even when we had no idea who He was. Jesus healed the man by the pool under the same circumstances. This self-made "victim" was made new -- even though he'd not been looking for the One who had compassion and power, even though he'd chosen to remain in a place of helplessness and hopelessness, even though he was unable to tell those who asked the name of his Physician.

Our silly little family game is all about stumbling upon something when you least expect it. A fun notion for some things. In fact, if you are a follower of Jesus today, He may have first made Himself visible to you when you were just going about your life, climbing the corporate ladder, dealing with a sick parent, starting a family, or facing financial ruin; the Bible tells us, as unbelievers, we don't seek God. But if you are a follower of Jesus today, purposefully seeking Him is what you do now. In the Old Testament God told His people to seek Him diligently, continually, and with all their hearts. Jesus promised seeking God and His righteousness comes with great reward. We can't simply stumble upon Him day after day and expect to grow in the knowledge of Him or resemble His righteousness. We need to seek after Him and His kingdom like precious treasure, praying, fasting, worshiping, serving, sacrificing, and being still before Him.

The last time I hid Batman, he remained undiscovered for months. Fine for Batman, but Jesus is worthy of all our effort, and the reward is ours!