I
don’t know what it was like living in the days of World War II when the demise
of the free world was a genuine fear. I look at the Rockwell Painting with
parents tucking in their children at night. The dad is holding a folded
newspaper where the only clear words are bombings
and horror. The times must have
been scary to live in.
People
fought and died to give us freedom from fear. I don’t know how long it was
supposed to last. The war ended and new ones came and went. More people died.
It’s even happening today. And it’s hard to not still be afraid.
I
hope I am not seriously sinning here not trusting God. I do trust Him for my
salvation. And like so many Bible heroes I try to trust and obey. But the world
is scary. And it’s not just war. Yes, there are megalomaniacs out there with
the power to kill thousands or more. But that isn’t all. People are killing
each other for no clear reason. Kids are killing themselves because they are
hurting so bad. And so much of this is happening in schools or with kids and young
people.
Leaders are
scrambling and debating about the best way to end this violence. Putting more
control over ways to kill (gun laws) seems to make sense. But then someone
rampages through a college with a knife and puts people in the hospital. It
looks to me like people are going to lose touch with sense and reality and try
to hurt or kill one another no matter what laws are in place. Sure, better laws
may be good. Keeping weapons out of the hands of dangerous people seems smart
to me.
But I don’t think an
important factor is being lost on anyone here. I see it and I can’t imagine
no-one else does. We can’t ignore this truth: something is making people snap.
People out there are misguided, broken. People are hurting.
And I sit in my
safe little house and feel overwhelmed. I hear the newscasts that break my
heart and sometimes just want to go crawl under my bed, plug my ears and hum.
Or sometimes I become so discouraged I just want to say, “I don’t want to live
on this planet anymore.” And it’s overwhelming. I wish I could do something,
but I don’t even know where to start.
I get overwhelmed
at work sometimes. Once in a while, there is a tremendous amount of things to
do and I don’t know where to begin. Let me unequivocally state here that I love
my job and hope I can keep it forever. But sometimes when a large event is done
and I’ve already worked a long day and I need to get everything ready for
Sunday morning, I feel a little beleaguered. And here is the thing: the room
will have a semblance of how it should look for Sunday. But the floor will be
dirty and need vacuuming. I will need to pick up all the table and chairs
vacuum, and reset the room. So I have to step backwards to move forward. The
restrooms will need a deep cleaning and the corridors will need vacuuming to.
It all sounds easy written out. But standing in a big room late in the day and
thinking of all that must be done can give me this feeling. And I realized
yesterday that the feeling I get thinking about all the hurting and broken
people and the sad state of so many things is the same feeling I get late in
the day with a plethora of tasks ahead of me.
There is so much to do. Where can I even
begin? I don’t have the strength to do all of this.
But each time I
get onto it. I stride into the room and unceremoniously grab one chair, I fold
it, then another and another until I have four in my hands. I take them to the
side of the room and lean them on the wall. Then I go get four more. There may
be 168 chairs.
I stay distracted
listening to my iPod. This is usually when I like to have an audiobook on. I
keep at it for the hours it takes. In the end I go home and go to bed and sleep
well.
Maybe the same
thing would work with helping the world. Maybe instead of succumbing to being
overwhelmed, I could look for the first little thing to do and just do that.
It’s true I don’t have what it takes to do it all. But, maybe it’s so cliché
that it’s unapparent, I have what it takes to do the first thing that I’m
capable of.
Perhaps it’s simple-minded
to liken my little world to the great big broken world. But my point is that the
great big broken world can’t be fathomed unless looked at simply.
If my iPod keeps
me cool doing the work resetting a room, prayer could guide me and calm me in the
world. And one more thing I’ve recently admitted, I could get help. A few
nights ago, there were not 168 chairs with tables, there were 244 chairs and accompanying
tables. I got two people, not to help me, but to pick up the room and vacuum it
for me while I went home and fell asleep. I was able to get up early the
following morning and set for the next event starting with a clean room.
special setup with 244 chairs and 31 tables |
It helps to start
small with the first task one can do. But sometimes it’s so valuable to have
someone step in before me and help clear things up. What I got was a clearer
picture of what I needed to do.
It’s not the task
that’s daunting. It’s the vision of it. Looking at the world, the idea that
people are hurting and killing and cannot be stopped is enough to paralyze me.
But when someone steps in and wipes away the clutter, I can see there are
people close to me, within arm’s reach that perhaps I can get to. It would
never be up to me to “reset” or “clean” them. I don’t really know what I would
do. It’s not up to me to ever plan a response for that. God tends to not work
that way. I just have to be ready. There may not be freedom from fear and I
might always feel fear. But I can still step forward despite it. Fear
diminishes with each guided step.
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