Some days, I struggle to show up to life. Some days, everything just feels like way too much. There's so much heartache and so much suffering. Across the street, around the world, across the room. Not to mention my own shortcomings and burdens. I feel the weight of it all, and I feel powerless to lift it.
Some days, all I want to do is crawl back into bed and hide under my weighted blanket. Today is one of those days. After watching the news this morning, it was pretty clear that we still live in a broken, fallen world, and that reality can paralyze me. I know that’s not really the most helpful response, but that's my honest response. That’s my struggle.
There’s this book in the Bible called the Psalms. It’s basically a book about the internal (and external) struggles of being human in a messed up world. It's a place I know I can come back to when it all feels like too much. The book goes into detail about the problem of evil, because a lot of it is written by David, a guy who spent a lot of his life hiding in caves and running away from bad guys.
In Psalm 37 it says,
The wicked plot against the righteous and gnash their teeth at them;
The wicked draw the sword and bend the bow
to bring down the poor and needy,
Cue me crawling under the covers after watching the news this morning. Trying to show up as a light in such a dark place? Feels a little bit like standing outside in a hurricane trying to keep a candle lit. But maybe… just maybe, that’s not what God is really asking me to do.
In Psalm 36 it says,
How priceless is your unfailing love, O God!
People take refuge in the shadow of your wings,
For with you is the fountain of life; in your light we see light.
Instead of me trying to keep my candle lit in a hurricane of darkness, what if God was inviting me to take shelter in His love? And invite others to do the same? That’s the only place that’s truly safe. The only kind of light that will always keep burning, no matter how fierce the storm.
I know it sounds like I’m trying to wrap this all up with a bow. But honestly, I’m still learning what all this looks like practically, to shelter in His love. Some days I forget that’s even an option. So I step back out into the hurricane alone, and I learn the true meaning of burn-out as I try desperately to light match after match, each time watching the wind and rain snuff it out. But I’m starting to wonder… what if the burn-out and the overwhelm is an invitation to take shelter again? To come back to the source? Could I let myself accept that, and step into the safety of His love? When I think about the alternative, I come back to the words a friend of Jesus once said, “Where else would I go?”