only a shadow

Job, chapter 8:
13 Such is the destiny of all who forget God;
so perishes the hope of the godless.
14 What they trust in is fragile;
what they rely on is a spider’s web.
15 They lean on the web, but it gives way;
they cling to it, but it does not hold.
Much of what we cling to in this life is more fragile than we realize. Indeed, life itself, too often taken for granted, is fragile, full of peril, without guarantees. My 47-year-old neighbor passed away this past Saturday; robust, full of energy, laughter, and life, he fell victim to a merciless, random blood clot. Too soon, too young. Unexpected, we say, shaking our heads, what a shock. And yet, our surprise is a direct result of our assumption that a long life is a guarantee. The truth is, none of us know what tomorrow will bring. Psalm 139 says, “all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.” And in Psalm 90, “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”
In other words, we don’t know how much time we have, so we need to make it count.  In whom, or in what, do we place our trust?  Where do we look for our security, confidence, reassurance, acceptance?  What is it that truly matters in a world that is fragile?

Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD, the LORD himself, is the Rock eternal.  Isaiah 26:4

I find the term “ministry” to be an odd label at times; often we use it to label church activities or something that is done by church staff.  I think it is misleading to define the term so narrowly.  I also find it awkward when someone says they “ministered” to someone, because it seems presumptuous to me.  The reality is that often we sincerely hope and pray that we offer compassion, understanding, light and hope to others we come in contact with, but our fumbling attempts may not be perceived as ministry at all.  Instead, we may confuse, annoy, or even offend those on the receiving end.  No wonder some folks stay as far away from church as they can.

The truth is, my best friend recently began teaching second grade at an inner-city elementary school, and I have no doubt that her position there is a ministry in the best sense of the word.  Prior to completing her education degree, she student-taught in this district and became convinced that she was meant to teach in the inner city.  In her interview for a permanent position, the principal asked the revealing question, “How long do you think you will stay?”  Her answer:  “As long as you will have me.”  Unlike many others who take such a position as a step up and out to some comfortable suburban school, she plans to stay and make a difference.  Isn’t that what ministry is supposed to do?  Her plans include such unusual activities as home visits and trips to her students’ pee-wee football games, just so she can connect with the families.  She eats lunch with a small group of her students once a week, rotating the groups so that everyone will have a chance to join her.  “They need to learn manners,” she says.  Her colleagues think she is crazy to sacrifice precious free time during the school day.   Sacrifice?  Not to her; sounds like ministry to me.   She struggles not to react with shock as her young charges describe rare visits with incarcerated fathers; she wants to reassure them that they can talk to her openly.   Simple acceptance, attention, a listening ear, a compassionate heart…isn’t this what ministry is at its very core?

Who couldn’t use a little de-cluttering?  Does this speak to anyone else, or is it just me?  I guess my natural inclination is to hold back from God my discontent and restlessness, as if that is disloyal or implies a lack of faith…what a relief to give them to the one who says “my yoke is easy, and my burden is light”.

Lord, help me now to unclutter my life,
to organize myself in the direction of simplicity.
Lord, teach me to listen to my heart;
teach me to welcome change, instead of fearing it.
Lord, I give You these stirrings inside me,
I give you my discontent,
I give you my restlessness,
I give you my doubt,
I give you my despair,
I give you all the longings I hold inside.
Help me to listen to these signs of change, of growth;
to listen seriously and follow where they lead
through the breathtaking empty space of an open door.
Source: unknown