Balancing Justice Work, Worship, and Spirituality: Being the Church

by Rev. Dr. Derrick Elliot

Twelve years ago, one of the things that drew me to the United Church of Christ was our commitment to justice work and the inspiring God Still Speaking campaign (spiritual and worship) on TV. This journey began as a member of Casas Adobes Congregational Church UCC, where I became a Member in Discernment. Now, I am the pastor of two UCC churches. Throughout this journey, I have seen the importance of balancing our call to justice work with our worship and spiritual life. In the  United Church of Christ, we are deeply committed to all three. Our work for justice, our worship, and our spiritual practices are not mutually exclusive but rather three essential aspects of our mission of being the church in the world.

Biblical Foundations

The Bible offers us numerous examples of the inseparability of justice, worship, and spirituality. The prophet Micah summarizes this beautifully: “He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God” (Micah 6:8). This verse encapsulates the essence of our calling—justice, mercy, and humble devotion to God.

Jesus himself emphasized this balance. In Matthew 23:23, He rebukes the Pharisees, saying, “Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill, and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy, and faithfulness.” Here, Jesus points out the necessity of both outward acts of justice and inner spiritual devotion, which includes worship.

The early church also embodied this balance. In Acts 2:42-47, we see the early Christians devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and prayers, while also sharing their possessions and ensuring that no one among them was in need. Their worship and communal life were deeply connected to their acts of justice and mercy.

The Consequences of Imbalance

When we heavily focus on justice work without nurturing our spiritual life and worship, we risk burnout and disillusionment. Justice work can be demanding and emotionally taxing. Without a solid spiritual foundation and regular worship, the relentless pursuit of justice can lead to feelings of frustration and exhaustion. For example, activists who neglect their spiritual practices and worship may find themselves overwhelmed by the enormity of the issues they are addressing, leading to a loss of hope and motivation.

Conversely, when we focus solely on spirituality and worship without engaging in justice work, our faith can become insular and disconnected from the world around us. Spiritual practices and worship that do not inspire action can lead to a form of complacency where we feel spiritually fulfilled but fail to address the pressing needs of our neighbors. This imbalance can result in a church that is rich in spiritual life and worship but poor in social impact, failing to live out the Gospel’s call to love and serve others.

Real-Life Applications (Evangelism)

Evangelism isn’t a dirty word; it’s a heartfelt invitation to share the love and hope found in our faith. I would like to write more about this in another article. However, balancing our call to justice work with worship and spiritual life is essential, as they are all integral aspects of our mission in the United Church of Christ.

Community Engagement, Prayer, and Worship: Many churches find that organizing regular food drives to support local food banks is an effective way to serve their community. These drives provide much-needed resources for food banks, which in turn help families in need. To integrate spirituality, each food drive can start and end with a short prayer, led by a volunteer or one of the participants. Incorporating moments of worship, such as singing a hymn together or sharing a scripture about generosity and caring for the hungry, can also deepen the connection between giving and faith. This practice grounds the act of giving in faith and emphasizes the importance of compassion and sharing God’s blessings with others. By intertwining justice work with moments of prayer and worship, churches reinforce the message that acts of service are expressions of spiritual commitment.

Education, Meditation, and Worship: Churches offer educational programs that address social justice issues, ensuring these sessions begin and end with meditation or prayer. Including moments of worship, such as reflective songs or responsive readings, can help participants connect their learning and activism with their spiritual growth. This practice, as seen in many series on racial justice, helps participants connect their learning and activism with their spiritual growth. This echoes the instruction in James 1:22, “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.” Education coupled with worship encourages us to be doers of the word.

Personal Balance: On a personal level, it’s crucial to integrate justice, worship, and spirituality into daily life. Many people find that setting aside time each morning for scripture reading, meditation, and worship helps them approach justice work with a spirit of compassion and humility. Additionally, engaging in justice work with a prayerful and worshipful heart transforms tasks from burdensome duties into acts of devotion. Colossians 3:17 reminds us, “And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.” This scripture encourages us to integrate our faith into every action, making our justice work an extension of our worship.

The Wisdom of Spiritual Leaders

Howard Thurman, a prominent theologian and civil rights leader, often emphasized the critical need for maintaining a deep spiritual life while engaging in social activism. He believed that neglecting one’s spiritual foundations could lead to a disconnection from the very essence that drives meaningful and sustainable social change. Thurman’s writings, such as “Meditations of the Heart” and “Jesus and the Disinherited,” highlight how spiritual discipline and inner reflection are essential for those involved in justice work, ensuring their actions remain rooted in a profound sense of purpose and humanity.

Henri Nouwen, a Catholic priest and theologian, emphasized the necessity of balancing activism with times of prayer and reflection. He argues that without returning to a quiet place of contemplation, our actions risk losing their grounding in God’s love and can become self-serving and disconnected from their true purpose. Nouwen’s extensive writings, such as those found in “The Way of the Heart” and “Out of Solitude,” highlight the importance of integrating inner spiritual practices with outward actions to maintain a deep connection with God and ensure our activism remains aligned with divine love and purpose.

Parker Palmer, a noted Quaker author and educator, emphasizes the necessity of balancing activism with times of rest and reflection to maintain a connection with one’s inner light. He argues that true social change arises from a deep spiritual grounding. In his book “A Hidden Wholeness,” Palmer highlights that living with wholeheartedness requires integrating our inner spiritual practices with our outward actions. He states, “The power for authentic leadership is found not in external arrangements, but in the human heart” (Palmer, 2009). This underscores the importance of inner reflection and grounding in sustaining meaningful and effective social change.

Balancing justice work, worship, and spirituality requires intentionality. As members of the Southwest Conference, let us embrace this threefold calling. Let us act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God, knowing that our work for justice is deeply rooted in our spiritual life and worship. By doing so, we truly embody what it means to be the church in our world today.

Too Many Beets in the Bucket

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

“You got too many,” I tell him. “I know,” he replies, “that’s why I’m thinning them out.”

I watch my husband as he pulls out the tiny red threads from the bucket of soil. A few weeks ago, he threw a handful of beet seeds in a blue plastic bucket and now they’re all springing up. It’s kind of miraculous to bear witness to life bursting from seeds; but it’s also not very productive; it’s not good to plant that many seeds in such a tiny plot of earth.

Beets are one of several cultivated varieties of Beta vulgaris, plants grown for their edible taproots and leaves. We mostly just eat the roots; and if you want a good beet root, you got to give it space. In fact, you need as much, if not more space, to have the root grow into a delicious red ball as you need for the leaves to spread out on top of the ground. Thinning is required to grow this plant.

Author Wayne Muller writes about the need for thinning in his book, Sabbath: Restoring the Sacred Rhythm of Rest. He writes about a friend sharing what she learned about thinning and pruning a garden in a letter she wrote him one spring.

In one of the Sabbath practices found at the end of every chapter, Muller tells the reader, “Frances writes to me: We have an abundance of growing vegetables…I couldn’t believe how you could plant seeds and then all this stuff would just come up with abandon. I knew I needed to thin those turnips and carrots – but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I thought maybe they’ll grow anyway. So I never did thin or prune… They also never did grow. Not one turnip did I get – although there were tons of greens.”

Muller goes on to say that “thinning is, as Francis says, making space for life. We plant so many seeds, and they seem so small, so benign, they take up hardly any space at all. But everything, as it grows, needs space.”

Spring is a great season for planting. It’s a wonderful time to throw out seeds and dream of a plot of land teeming with life. It’s the great season of growth.

But it’s also a great time to be intentional about what we’re hoping to accomplish, what we want growing in our gardens. It’s the season of plenty but it’s also the season of discernment.

As you enjoy the warming of the earth, the green bursting around you, the flowering trees, the blades and stems of bulbs breaking through ground, remember not to try and do too much, plant too many seeds, involve yourself in too many projects. Remember that thinning and pruning, discarding, letting go, is also a part of a healthy garden. Just remember and pay attention to everything you’re agreeing to do; and don’t plant too many beets in the bucket.

What kind of day is Palm Sunday?

by Rev. Paul A. Whitlock

It’s the observance of a tragedy. It’s not a day of simple optimism. We know all about optimism; we’ve tried to be optimistic while the various countries of the world, including our own, position for war. We’ve tried to be optimistic while our government is falling apart and lacks the moral leadership to dig us out of this hole.
Palm Sunday is the observance of a tragedy, but not a day of despair.

Palm Sunday is one bright and glorious moment in human history when we proclaim the courage and the integrity of God in Christ. Palm Sunday isn’t a day when we throw up our hands because Jesus was killed. It’s not a day of pessimism when we condemn the people of the first century, the crowds which later became ugly. It’s not a day when we get morose over the money changers in the temple and declare that nothing ever turns out well.

Palm Sunday, rather, is a day when knowing…

  • People are fickle and get tired of parades and go home
  • Religious leaders like things neat and tidy and kill reformers
  • The humble truth teller is walked upon
  • People will sell their souls for a handful of silver
  • Even good friends will sleep while we suffer

Knowing all of this, Jesus still came riding into town.

Palm Sunday is a bright and glorious day when love turned into courage and integrity and became a small parade headed for the gallows. It’s the day that Jesus the Christ, knowing the facts of life – the truth about our person, and the truth of what we do when we get together – knowing all this Jesus loving does what he is called to do, and does it without bitter and ill feeling towards us. It’s so tragic that it had to come to this. It’s so tragic that God had to do that for us.

Palm Sunday is a tragedy, but a tragedy worth celebrating.  

photo credit: Rev. Paul A. Whitlock, Church of the Palms UCC

Put it to death

by Rev. Deb Beloved Church

“Sometimes things need to be destroyed so that something new can be created.” So my spiritual director said to me on the first occasion of our meeting–a meeting I had sought as I desperately tried to make sense of my growing understanding that my marriage was coming to an end. 

I recently came upon that same idea in the book we’re discussing in our Sunday morning Adult Education class, [Where We Meet: A Lenten Study of Systems, Stories, and Hope, by Rachel Gilmore, Candace Lewis, Tyler Sit, and Matt Temple]: “Sometimes things must die so that something more in harmony with the (kin)dom of God can emerge.” (Where We Meet, p. 50)

Certainly, that idea is not new, nor is it limited to those two occurrences! Indeed, those statements encapsulate a central tenet of the Christian faith: that resurrection comes only after death. That new life comes only after something dies. That rebirth into a new way of being comes only after the old way of being is no more.

And while we might long for that resurrection while it’s still far off, and welcome that new life once it comes, and celebrate that new way of being once we’re in it–we generally do not like the prospect of “it” [the thing that needs to die, whatever it is] being no more; we’re typically quite resistant to the process of it dying; we’re quite uncomfortable with the reality of its death…

And yet…it is only through death that we get to resurrection. 

And so, in these remaining two weeks of Lent, I invite you to join me in considering, what is it that needs to die in our lives so that something new–and more in alignment with God’s desires for peace, for healing, for joy, for reconciliation, for wholeness, for justice, for abundance–and all of that for all of God’s creation!–might be born? 

Perhaps we need to put to death a grudge, or a desperately-held, long-harbored hurt. Or our certainty about what’s right and who’s right. Or a hurtful relationship or a self-destructive habit. 

Perhaps we need to put to death a diminished view of ourselves or others, or possibly, a grandiose view of ourselves or others. Or the lens through which we look, that judges others as less than–or more than–based on their education or ethnicity or religious affiliation or lack thereof. Or our blindness to our privilege or our secret and subtle self-righteousness. 

Perhaps we need to put to death our secret, soul-sucking excesses–alcohol, shopping, fault-finding, Facebook, working, gambling, people-pleasing, eating, or simply endlessly comparing ourselves to others. 

What would you add? What needs to die in our lives, both individually and collectively, right here and right now, so that something new and more in alignment with God’s desires for each of us and all of us and for all of God’s creation might be born? 

Where do we need death, so that we might prepare for and truly experience resurrection?? 

Peace and courage be with us all.

Pastor Deb

Return to the deep sources

by Rev. Talitha Arnold, Senior Pastor, United Church of Santa Fe

Return to the deep sources, nothing less
Will nourish the torn spirit, the bewildered heart. . .
Will teach the stiff hands a new way to serve,
To carve into our lives the forms of tenderness.

“Return to the deep sources,” wrote poet May Sarton. “Nothing less will nourish the torn spirit, the bewildered heart.” The seasons of the Christian calendar—Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Easter, and Pentecost—Lent can lead us back to such deep sources. Whether we live in New Mexico or elsewhere, the Christian seasons call us to particular places—a stable in Bethlehem, a wedding in Cana, the courts of Herod, and a hill called Calvary. Sometimes the journey to such places can be hard. But, it also holds the promise of healing and strength, even new life.

In the Middle Ages, Christians went on pilgrimages to the holy places of the Christian story, like Jerusalem or Rome. For those who couldn’t undertake such treks, cathedrals had labyrinths as a way to go on pilgrimage without leaving home.

The liturgical year of the Christian church offers us a “pilgrimage in time.” Like those medieval journeys to Jerusalem or the labyrinth’s path to the sacred center, the Christian year calls us time and again to find our place alongside people like Moses in the Sinai wilderness or Mary at Calvary. With them, we find our way home to God, be it from the slavery of Egypt or the grief of the cross.

Lent in particular calls us to return to the deep sources. Step into the sanctuary and you know you’re in a different world from the week just past. Gone are the colors and candles of Epiphany and Mardi Gras, replaced with a purple banner with a thin red cross in its center. Just as we give up things for Lent, the sanctuary itself is stripped-down to its essence this season.

The same is true musically. For six weeks, we neither sing nor say “Alleluia” or “Hallelujah.” Monastic chants, spirituals from a time of suffering, hymns from the heart—the music is often in a minor key, sometimes a cappella. Services end with no postlude.

We use ancient prayers of confession, with phrases like “lost and strayed” or “erred from thy ways.” They sound harsh and unfamiliar, just like the barrenness of the sanctuary and the dissonance of the music.

And that’s the point. When we come to worship in Lent, we know we are in the wilderness and we’re going to be there for a while.

But when we come to this Lenten wilderness, we also know we’re not alone. Lent begins with Jesus in the desert, where he wrestles with his demons, faces his temptations, and finds his angels. He also finds the deep sources of his courage and hope. May we find the same this Lent.

As writer Frederick Buechner says about Lent, “if sackcloth and ashes are at the start of it, something like Easter may be at the end.”

This Lent, let us take that life-giving journey together.

A Reflection for the New Year

by Rev. Deborah Beloved Church

“To every thing there is a season, 

and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”

(Ecclesiastes 3:1; King James Version)

Familiar words to many (thanks in no small part to the Byrds! For the full Biblical version, click here:  Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, KJV), and words that seem fitting for this time of bidding farewell to 2023 and bidding welcome to 2024.

As we reflect on the year that has come to a close, and take our first steps into yet another “new” one, perhaps it might be helpful to remember: 

“To every thing there is a season, 

and a time to every purpose under the heaven…” 

As we remember the ups and the downs of the year that has ended–the pleasant and the unpleasant, the good, the bad, the beautiful, and the ugly, and everything in-between, let us not feel drawn to claim only the “ups”–the pleasant, the good, and the beautiful (and hope for more of all of that in the coming year); and judge or feel shame or want to hide or deny the “downs”–what feels unpleasant, bad, and ugly (and long for less of all of that in the year that’s just begun). Rather, let us remember:

“To every thing there is a season, 

and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”

May we acknowledge and hold with tenderness the times of grief and sadness, as we also give thanks for those of joy and delight…

“To every thing there is a season, 

and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”

May we acknowledge and hold with kindness the reality of our exhaustion, as we also give thanks for momentary surges of energy…

“To every thing there is a season, 

and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”

May we acknowledge and hold with gentleness the expressions of heartache and anger, as we also give thanks for manifestations of compassion and generosity…

“To every thing there is a season, 

and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”

May we acknowledge and hold with grace the moments of anxiety and fear, as well as those of trust and abiding love…

“To every thing there is a season, 

and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”

May we hold space for it all, with tenderness and kindness, with gentleness and grace–for ourselves, for our loved ones, for our neighbors, and even for those we consider our enemies. May we hold space for it all, with vulnerability and with courage, recognizing that, indeed…

“To every thing there is a season, 

and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”

And as we hold space or it all, may we also recognize those seasons that have nourished us, and those that have depleted us. May we see those experiences that have caused our souls to wither and shrivel, and those that have caused our hearts to blossom and expand. May we acknowledge those occasions that have led us to shake our fist at God and rage against the universe, and weep and wail and withdraw, as well as those in which we have found ourselves engaging and rejoicing and giving thanks at the beauty and wonder of it all…

“To every thing there is a season, 

and a time to every purpose under the heaven…”

As we reflect on the year that has come to a close, and take our first steps into yet another “new” one, perhaps it might be helpful to not only remember that, but also to remember… 

As people of faith we claim and proclaim 

that in every season and in every time, 

God, the Maker of Heaven and Earth

God, Creator of all that is

God, who was and is and is to come

God, who took on flesh and walked among us as Jesus of Nazareth

God, who dwells in all persons as the Holy Spirit

God, Emmanuel…

is with us! 

Now and forever and always. 

Thanks be to God!

And Happy New Year!

Think about what you believe. Then see if you believe what you think. 

by Rev. James Briney

I like what Jesus did.  He noticed what was going on for others, did what he could and moved on.  Jesus did what he did as a matter of faith.  He lived for what he believed and he died for what he believed.  But his last words indicate that he did not know if it was worth it:  “My God why have you forsaken me.”  Jesus understood that when you know the right thing to do, but are not certain of the outcome, do it anyway.  That’s all any of us can do.  

A challenge of ministry is the futility of it all.  If it weren’t for so darn many flawed human beings, clergy would be out of business.  More congregations would be extinct and forming community would be left to amateurs.  Professionally—or not—the key is to minister.  Show up.  Be present.  Be in the practice of ministry, not the ministerial business. 

The major religions of the world have one thing in common.  No one knows anything.  Religious practices are based on faith and belief, not proof and knowledge.  We all are just trying to figure out where we come from, why we are here, and where we are going.  The best we can do is employ words and symbols to express such concerns.  

I like who Jesus was, and is.  He still is, and will continue to be, for as long as he is remembered, thought about, and talked about.  Jesus was anointed as the messiah by those who recognized him as the King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, the Lord of Lords, and the Son of God; not the Caesars, who claimed those titles for themselves. 

When Jesus was confronted by the law-givers, who were out to do him in, he did not say he was the ‘only’ way to be in relationship with God.  Jesus said: “I am the way.”  I take that to mean, I am the way to be.  Be the way I am. 

Jesus is not some sort of magic man who did things we can’t do.  He was not being modest when he said:  “You will do greater things than I.”  Jesus understood, hoped for, and trusted that every person is capable of being and becoming the soul that God intends for them to be. 

It is tempting to give up on humanity, or to blame God in the context of overwhelming tragedies, horrors, and sorrows.  It is seductive to settle for a life of distractions that prevent us from thinking about that which matters most.  

I am a person of faith.  I believe there is more to life than life itself, perhaps experienced in the afterlife as manifestations of consciousness and energy.  I once told an atheist who ridiculed my faith, to try to be gracious should he meet God face to face.   

God has given all of Creation everything we need.  Everything in this world that is wrong, unfair, hostile, and unjust is on us.  Trust the Spirit that is Holy within you.  All that you experience and all that you do is part of the Eternal. 

There is no my god, your god, or our god.  There is one God, by a variety of names.  The Church is a flawed institution, not the Kingdom of God.  Individuals that understand the basics, fundamentals, and particulars of their own faith—and the faith of others—give me some hope.   

It’s scary to contemplate our fate and to wonder where we came from, why we are here and where we are going.  But do it anyway.  When you are satisfied that you have all the answers start over.  Think about what you believe.  Then see if you believe what you think. 

Over 25 years of ordained ministry the Reverend James Briney served congregations in Indiana, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Arizona. Early on, Jim earned degrees in Philosophy and Theology.  He is retired and living in Oro Valley.  (Photo by: Lou Waters.)

Being Soul-Centered

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

In his book, Soul Keeping, author John Ortberg writes about caring for the soul. He explains that Jesus calls us to a deep life, a life that pushes beyond everyday desires and interests. In one chapter, he describes how the soul needs a center; and I was particularly drawn to the idea that without a center, the soul is easily thrown, easily distracted, and easily destroyed.

Ortberg tells the story of being with friends at an open-air street market and how they all were drawn to a mechanical bull. Ortberg is talked into riding and reluctantly agrees to give it a try; but before he jumps on, he is given a few instructions.

“’There are twelve levels of difficulty on this bull,’ the operator explained. It might not be all that easy, but the key is you have to stay centered, and the only way to do that is to sit loose. People try to clamp on too tight. Don’t do that. You have to be flexible. If you think you can be in control of the ride you’ll never make it. You have to follow the bull. You have to keep moving. Shift your center of gravity as the bull moves.’”

Ortberg successfully managed to stay on the bull for a few minutes, thinking he had mastered every move of the mechanical animal, feeling quite pleased with himself and what he imagined was a natural ability to ride and not fall off. After the nods and smiles of congratulations from his friends, he turned to the operator, expecting some high praise. Instead what he heard was, “That was level one.” And Ortberg was soon taken to level two. He writes, “Level two lasted maybe a second. The bull won.”

We can ride a long time in level one. It’s not that hard to hang on and get through the easy, slow bumps in life. It’s when we’re hit with real suffering, thrown about in fits and starts by an uncontrollable ride that we really come to find out just how centered we really are and just how flexible we can be.

These are not easy days for any of us and we are truly being tested with how long we can ride, how easily we can hold onto to our faith without needing to control. We are in a season of rough riding and perhaps it is a season that can remind us to find our center, to stay connected to what feeds our souls, to loosen our grip on how we think things should go, trust that even if we fall, we land in grace, and then just stay engaged, stay in the ride for as long as it takes.

As we continue to watch wars escalate in the world, gun violence increase, suffering grow, let us dig deep, find the center of our souls, breathe into the moment and ride.

We are not alone.

The Power of the Float

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

One of my favorite activities is to float; but I find myself, especially in unfamiliar waters, not always able to let go and relax. I get anxious, worried about what might be beneath me or what might be coming my way; and when I do, it isn’t long before I began to sink.

Floating Takes Faith is the name of a book of essays written by Rabbi David Wolpe. In the essay with this title, Wolpe writes that even something as simple as honoring Shabbat can be hard. He writes that swimming requires us to kick, stroke, and move while floating asks us to be still, to trust the buoyancy of the water. In the ocean, he says, the swimmer propels his or her body under the wave but the floater rises on the crest. “Sim­i­lar­ly, the one who works on him­self or her­self all week should aim to float on Shab­bat. Float­ing will car­ry you high­er than the often-stren­u­ous effort of the week…Shabbat asks us to trust the wave of God’s world.”

Trusting the waves in an ocean is not always easy. Neither is always trusting God. Many times I’d prefer to swim over the choppy water, dive through the turbulence, not simply stretch out and ride it out. But faith requires us to believe in the goodness of God, to trust that even in the high or unsettled waters, we can look to God.

Dr. Jeremiah Wright tells the story of going out with his family on a boat for a day of deep sea fishing. After a couple of hours, he noticed that his eight year old daughter was missing. Frantically, they searched the boat only to find she was not anywhere on board. The crew finally decided that she must have fallen off the boat and the coast guard was called. Within minutes a rescue boat arrived. Dr. Wright joined the search crew and they began making concentric circles outward, with the charter boat as their center. The circles grew wider and wider, and then about 45 minutes after they started they spotted his daughter, lying on her back, bobbing in the water. When they got to her, they cut the engines off, and when they did, what they heard was this, an eight year old child singing a little song, floating on her back in the middle of the ocean, seemingly not even worried.

When they got to her in the boat, and after they knew she was all right, the captain asked Dr. Wright’s daughter what she thought about when she fell off the boat.

And she said, “Daddy always told me if I ever got in trouble when we were in the water, to just turn over on my back and float and to sing this song so I wouldn’t be afraid…’Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world.’”

And the Captain said, “So you weren’t afraid?”                          

And she said, “I was a little, but I knew that Daddy would be looking out for me, and that he would come and get me as soon as he knew I was gone.”

Whatever waters you find yourself in this week, remember that you can trust that you are not alone, that you will not drown. And go ahead, lean into the waters, close your eyes. Float.

Too Many Things

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

My grandmother used to have a favorite saying she liked to share whenever I had my arms full and dropped something I was carrying. “Never take a lazy man’s load.” It was her way of telling me that it’s better to take less things more times than it is to try and get it all in one trip. Trying to hold onto too much, she would explain, usually after everything I was holding dropped out of my arms, is a sure recipe for disaster.

I hear her voice inside my head every time I try to carry too many things, thinking I can manage extra bags or books or groceries, and I hear a “my, my, my…” after the accident happens, yet again. One would think that after fifty years of being taught that lesson, I would have learned it. And yet, it still always seems like I attempt to pile more things in my arms, try to carry more than I actually can.

Author Mark Nepo writes about a friend of his who had a similar problem; his, a self-induced fall. He had set out to paint a room in his house. He bought the supplies, drop cloths, paint brushes, cans of paint, mixing sticks, then mixed the paint, and got ready to enter the door to the house to start his project. Nepo’s friend explained, “I teetered there for minutes, trying to open the door, not wanting to put anything down. I was so stubborn. I had the door almost open when I lost my grip, stumbled backwards, and wound up on the ground, red gallons of paint all over me.”

Nepo goes on to write, “Amazingly, we all do this, whether with groceries or paint or with the stories we feel determined to share. We do this with our love, with our sense of truth, even with our pain. It’s such a simple thing, but in a moment of ego we refuse to put down what we carry in order to open the door. Time and time again, we are offered the chance to truly learn this: We cannot hold on to things and enter. We must put down what we carry, open the door, and then take up only what we need to bring inside.”

Both my grandmother’s “lazy man’s load” and Nepo’s “moments of ego” remind me that usually bad things happen when we try to carry too many things or stack too much on our backs, attempt to move forward by clinging to the past or refusing to let go of stuff. There is more calm and less drama, more peace and less disasters when we take things slowly, when we put things aside, when we allow ourselves the room and space to walk.

On the surface, attempting to do too many things at once doesn’t seem like the actions of a lazy person, but rather appears to be the work of an industrious being, a hardworking soul. And yet, to continue fooling yourself into thinking you’re able to keep too many balls in the air, more items on your list than you can remember, too many events for your mind to hold, too much in your bags to carry, will certainly leave you with the same thoughts and emotions as the painter covered in spilled paint.

“Never take a lazy man’s load,” I hear my grandmother say once again; and I sigh as I put down a bag of groceries, open the door, and take them in just one sack at a time.