Rest
Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost (Year C)
I looked at the passages for a good half hour, trying to get some neuron in my brain to fire. Nothing. I'm tired. I left for church at 8:30 this morning and got back at 7:30 this evening. It was a good day. A ton of people got together to unload an 18-wheeler full of pumpkins for our youth missions fundraiser. It was exhausting, but fun and meaningful. Meaningful in seeing all sorts of people gather in community for a common purpose.
But I'm tired. And, if I'm going to be honest, I'm lonely. I miss my family and the whiplash of so much change has gotten to me the last couple of days. People are nice and I'll see EA and the boys this coming weekend, but there are times I feel like a ghost fading in and out of existence. Coming here was the right decision. I do not doubt that for a minute. It is just a little more difficult than I anticipated.
So tonight I will rest.
I believe that most of us experience an internal tug-of-war between the past and the future. In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis’ titular demon supervisor advises his underling Wormwood that one of best ways to keep a human from doing good is to keep them ping-ponging between those two times that are not the present. One keeps trying to recapture or reach towards moments that are mist. It can keep a person from doing something.
The quote above resonates with me because it harnesses the past and unfinished future into a catalyst that animates our present. We remember the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus because it means something today and compels us to presently work for the Good that is already here, but also not yet. We remember the hope and pain of the past to do something that help us take some sort of step each and every day. We realize that the hope which exists within the gospel story is not yet fully realized. Many people are still being left behind and forgotten. The realization, as the theologian Metz states, puts pressure and questions on the present.