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Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Four Lessons from the Field, part three: Work from a Position of Rest

            I’m sitting on a bench along a narrow corridor located inside the maternity ward of a hospital. It is 3 A.M. Melissa is sitting to my left. A very pregnant Emily is sitting to my right, next to her most recent boyfriend, who has been exhibiting drug addiction-related behaviors. We’ve been at the hospital all night. We are physically and mentally exhausted. We’re emotionally drained. It feels like we have no idea what we’re doing. And we have no idea how things are going to end.

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            The work is complex. Our task is relationship. From a position of rest.
            We’ve meditated on this subject a lot in the past two years. There are so many challenges in ministry; we touched on this by demonstrating the complexity we face in various situations. With each relationship, with each circumstance, with each problem and with each solution, the pressures mount. We face physical, emotional, mental, psychological, and spiritual highs and lows at each turn. And we face them in community—in relationship.
            And that relationship begins and ends with how we relate to Him.
            We are often asked by friends and supporters how we do what we do. We ask you, the reader, to consider this question as well. How do any of us do what we do? How do we serve others, how do we speak life into situations, how do we offer counsel or a listening ear—how do we diffuse the love and truth of the Father to a broken world? And how do we do this when we know that we ourselves struggle with the same brokenness?
            In order to deal with this question, we’ve found it best to ask ourselves another one: in who or what do we find rest? An honest inquiry will enable us to see who or what it is that we lean on the most in order to deal with both our own brokenness and with the brokenness of others.
            In my own life I have tried to look honestly at myself in order to answer this question. Do I draw from Him, or from something or someone else? Is He my rest, or a mattress in a dark, cool room? Is He my comfort, or air conditioning and an easy chair? Is He my refreshment, or a cup of coffee or a hot shower? Is He my companion, or are my wife and family and friends my chief sources of companionship? Is He my shelter and stronghold, or do I depend on my intellect, background, privilege, knowledge, and ability as a means of control?
            Often a quick scan of such tangible things reveals to me how much I have attempted to cope with my own brokenness: I choose self-reliance, or I am reliant upon other people or things. Now, there’s nothing necessarily wrong with these things—they are gifts from Him to me. But all of us need to consider whether or not it is possible to put our trust in the things that the Father gives more than in the Father himself.
            Are we resting in our Father? That is, are we consciously submitting every situation, relationship, dilemma, project, task, and the like to Him? If we find ourselves troubled by the pressures of daily life, not to mention the pressures of ministry, are we able to surrender these pressures to Him? This is the question we must continually ask. This is the question that will bring us to the submission that leads to rest.
            As we sat on that bench in those early morning hours, my thoughts began to drift from the chaos we were experiencing as Emily’s first baby was about to be born. I remember sitting there wishing I was somewhere else. I remember trying to imagine ways of taking away the discomfort I felt from being in a stuffy hospital room or of decreasing the helplessness I felt as we watched the events of this birth unfold. And then He showed up, right there on that hospital bench, and grace washed over me as I recalled the goodness of my Creator, and the graciousness of my Savior. I started to lift my thoughts to Him until I began to surrender this particular situation to His will; and slowly but surely, the more I let go of it, the more at rest I began to feel.
            This rest was not physical or mental or emotional; it was nothing conjured up by a mere exercising of the will. It was simply the outworking of a command and a promise: “Come to me, you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” “Submit yourself to Him, and He will lift you up.” That night I found these words to be true.
            The task given to you may be complex. It may be difficult—even impossible. But the promise of His rest still stands. And in surrendering everything to Him in faith, we will find ourselves strengthened for the task; it will be in this moment that we will be ready to see His hand work wonders.


-R


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