How’s everybody on their New Year’s goals?
No pressure. I took several weeks last year to come up with mine. Take your time. Just make sure you write them down somewhere. It’s a game changer.
On the drive home from Augusta the Sunday before we all got back into the real world, Brad and I were talking through the calendar to make sure we’re on the same page. I discovered an insanely busy month of January.
But I wasn’t intimidated. I was energized. Like a lot of people, I’m much more productive when I’m busy. Have to be more intentional with my time and I end up getting more accomplished.
So I hit the ground running last Monday morning. Ready to roll. Even got to work EARLY, for heaven’s sake.
And within minutes, my day ended before it could even begin.
I leaned over to pick up something off the ground just the right way to throw my back out. The pain was so sharp, I audibly gasped.
I struggled to my feet, thinking something might snap back into place. No such luck. I called Brad in tears.
So all last week, I was out of commission. We went to the ER, then my family doctor, then the work comp doctor twice. I was unable to stand up, sit down or walk without help. Brad even had to help me go to the bathroom. (I’m sorry but we were supposed to be a lot older when that first happened. Nothing sexy or romantic about that.)
I get sick and I get hurt, just like everybody else. But it’s really never been bad enough to stop me. Slow me down? Yes. Make me grumpy? Absolutely. Take me out of the game? No way.
I remember about a year ago, Caroline came to me one morning saying she wasn’t feeling well. I had a particularly busy day ahead of me and wasn’t convinced that whatever she was feeling was enough for us to spend the day at home.
So I gave her some over-the-counter medicine and told her to go to school, but if she still felt bad after a couple hours, she could call me and I would come get her.
“Why can’t we just stay home?” she whined.
I got down in her face and looked her right in the eye. “Because we’re WOMEN,” I told her. “We don’t stay home when we’re sick. We take some drugs and we ROCK ON.”
Her eyes got big and she nodded. I sent her off to school and didn’t hear from her. I knew she would be fine.
Later I realized my empowering pep talk probably did at least another $200 worth of psychological damage to the kid, which she’d later have to pay a therapist to undo later. So I followed up, apologized and told her of COURSE we can stay home when we’re sick. And I ALWAYS want her to tell me how she’s feeling so we can figure out the best way to handle it.
That same day, Beau asked me if I had ever been sick. EVER been sick.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You know, since you and Dad got married,” he continued. “Have you ever been sick?”
I was aghast. I started mentally running through the list of ailments I had experienced in the past four years. “Beau, are you kidding me? Of COURSE I’ve been sick.”
Sydney jumped in, “Yeah, don’t you remember when she lost her voice last Christmas?” Like that was the only time they could think of that I wasn’t perfectly fine.
I stifled a laugh. I guess I ‘rock on’ a little too well.
But not this time. All last week, I was completely helpless and got a crash course in humility. Brad had no problem waiting on me hand and foot. His love language is acts of service and he’s been waiting for this opportunity for five years. I finally had no choice but to let him do stuff for me.
I. HATED. IT.
Like a lot of people I know, I am great at helping other people. But I suck at letting people help me. (Although I did accept a number of meals from dear friends. Thank-you notes coming.)
I pride myself on being independent and low maintenance. (Key word being PRIDE.) And Brad and I stayed in the same argument the whole time I was immobile.
“You are just gonna have to get over the fact that you need help and that I have to do stuff for you,” he said a million times.
“I’m TRYING,” I retorted. “But you’re just gonna have to be PATIENT with me. I’m not good at this.”
So if I wanted or needed anything, I had to ask for it. I had been getting better at that, from an emotionally healthy standpoint, but this was just ridiculous.
I had plans, you know. Big plans for starting off 2016 with a bang. My goals were in place and I couldn’t wait to get started on them.
But God had other plans, per usual. And His plans always win. So instead of starting the new year in high gear, I started completely useless and non-functioning. What was that about?
Instead of resolutions or goals, some people choose a single word to focus on throughout the coming year. My word for 2015 was humility. I guess I didn’t learn it well enough for God’s liking.
Of course, as a writer I immediately started looking for the lesson in all this. Here’s where I got:
“All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away,” Isaiah 64:6.
“As it is written: ‘There is no one righteous, not even one; there is no one who understands; there is no one who seeks God. All have turned away, they have together become worthless; there is no one who does good, not even one,'” Romans 3:10-12.
Was I getting too cocky with all my goals and plans? Was this a preemptive reminder that by way of earning righteousness, I am completely helpless? Maybe.
The old Caedmon’s Call song comes to mind, “I am thankful that I’m incapable of doing any good on my own.”
And yet, I am His. He loves me and calls me His own. Not because I jog three times a week. Not because I’m in a certain weight range. Not because of my ferocious (subconscious) desire to prove to Him, myself and the world that I GOT THIS.
Nope, I am His just like this. Even just like last week. Unshowered. Legs unshaved. In pain that made me grumpy. On drugs that made me sleepy. Literally unable to move. Needy. High maintenance. Helpless.
All my New Year’s goals and good intentions meant nothing. All I could do was ask for help. It was awful.
I guess part of me still thinks that my achieved goals, check-offed accomplishments, things I do determine my worth. And maybe that’s how it is in this world. But not in His Kingdom.
I’m a little more mobile this week. I can walk (slowly). I can drive (carefully). And I can work (despite the pain that still lingers). But after a few hours of up and around, I have to lie down. And I impatiently wait for the day when I can get back fully-functioning self.
As I fall asleep at night, God whispers to my restless heart:
You don’t have to impress Me. You don’t have to check things off your to-do list. You don’t have to accomplish anything. You don’t have to look nice, be fun and happy and busy. You don’t have to do anything. And even on your best day, all of that hustle earns you nothing in My economy. I have given you a very literal picture of your helplessness before Me. And My love for you has never wavered. It remains sure, strong and steady. Nothing you do or don’t do can ever change that. Will you try, just try to rest in My love?
Okay, Lord, if I get a handle on Your love for me and learn to rest and trust and all that, will You make me well so I can get on with my life?
You know better than that. I don’t do bargains. I don’t follow formulas. My ways are unknowable, untraceable, beyond understanding. But what you can know beyond a shadow of a doubt is My love. And when you’re finally able to move again, don’t confuse all your hustle with your worth in My eyes. Your value comes from what Jesus did, not from what you do. My love for you, your value to Me is a gift. Free. Undeserved. Unearnable. Learn it. Trust it. Rest in it. Even when you’re back to your busy self, may your heart still be at rest in My love.
No, this was not the way I wanted to start off the new year. The bang that I planned for turned out to be a bust.
But the late Brennan Manning’s words continue to echo in my head:
I am now utterly convinced that on Judgment Day, the Lord Jesus is going to ask each of us one question and only one question:
Did you believe that I loved you?
