Invisible
So
we don't look at the troubles we can see now; rather, we fix our gaze on things
that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the
things we cannot see will last forever. (2 Cor. 4:18)
Moms, I'll bet
you could use just a little bit of rest right now. Because by the time you've
got the house humming and the kids running, by the time the bills are paid,
meals are made, and life begins to look orderly, it starts all over again. Sometimes
you need a break, don't you? And you're not alone. In fact, read the
consequences of this burden and then guess its cause:
It afflicts 70
million Americans and is faulted for 38,000 deaths each year. The condition
annually costs the U.S. $70 billion worth of productivity. Teenagers suffer from
it, and studies show that 64% of teens blame it for poor school performance. Middle-agers
face it, too. Researchers say the most severe cases occur between ages 30 and
40. Even senior citizens are afflicted by it: one study suggests that the
condition impacts 50% of the 65 and over population. Treatments for the
condition include everything from mouth guards to herbal teas to medication.
Any idea what's
being described? Chemical abuse? Divorce? Long lessons like this one? None of
those answers are correct, although the last one was a pretty good guess. The
answer may surprise you. It’s insomnia.
America just can't seem to get to sleep.
For most of my
life I secretly laughed at the thought of sleep difficulties. My problem was
not in going to sleep; my problem was trying to stay awake. But a few years ago
I went to bed one night, closed my eyes, and nothing. Nada. I couldn't fall
asleep. Rather than slowing to a halt, my mind kicked into high gear. A
thousand and one obligations rushed in at me. Midnight passed and I was still
awake. So, I drank some milk and returned to bed. Still awake. So, I woke up my
wife using that blue ribbon of dumb questions, "Are you awake?" She
told me to quit thinking about stuff and get some sleep. So I did. I mean, I
quit thinking about stuff and started thinking about people. But as I thought
of people, I thought of what those people were doing. Right. They were
sleeping. And that made me mad and kept me awake even longer. Finally,
somewhere in the early hours of the morning, and now an initiate into the
fraternity of 70 million sleepless Americans, I dozed off.
I don't laugh at
the thought of sleep difficulties anymore. Nor do I question the inclusion of
the verse about rest contained in the 23rd Psalm – “He makes me to
lie down in green pastures.” (Ps. 23:2) People with too much work and too
little sleep step over to the baggage claim of life and grab the duffel bag of exhaustion.
And it’s not like the kind of duffel bag you can carry. You can’t even hoist it
onto your shoulders and stroll down the street. You drag it around like a lazy Lab.
Weariness wearies.
Why are we so
tired? Well, have you read the news lately? We long for the life of Huck and
Tom on the Mississippi. But look at us: we’re riding the white waters of the
Rio Grande where there are forks in the river and rocks in the water. Heart
attacks, betrayal, credit card debt, and custody battles. Huck and Tom didn't
have to face those kinds of things. But we do, however, and they keep us awake.
And since we can't
sleep, we have a second problem. Our bodies are tired. Think about it. If 70
million Americans aren't sleeping enough, what does that mean? It means that one-third
of our country is dozing off at work, napping through class, or sleeping at the
wheel. Some even snooze while reading messages like this one. Truth is, thirty
tons of aspirin, sleeping pills, and tranquilizers are consumed every day to
treat the condition.
It’s as if the gas
gauge on the dashboard of our lives says empty. And were we to invite someone to
solve our problem, they’d probably make a very simple suggestion – get more sleep.
But we'd laugh because, clearly, he or she doesn't understand the way we work.
Literally. We work hard. There’s money to be made. Degrees to be earned.
Ladders to be climbed. In our way of thinking, busyness is next to godliness.
We idolize someone like Thomas Edison, who claimed to live on 15-minute naps. But
somehow we forget to mention someone like Albert Einstein who averaged 11 hours
of sleep a night. Back in 1910, Americans slept nine hours a night; today we
sleep seven and we’re proud of it. But pride has its price. Our minds are
tired. Our bodies are tired. And more importantly, our souls are tired.
We are eternal
creatures, and we ask eternal questions: Where did I come from? Where am I
going? What is the meaning of life? What is right? What is wrong? Is there life
after death? These are the primal questions of the soul. And left unanswered, these
questions steal our rest. Only one other living creature has as much trouble
resting as we do, and it’s not dogs because they doze. It’s not bears either –
they hibernate. Cats invented the catnap, and the sloth slumbers 20 hours a
day. Most animals know how to rest. There is one exception, however. These
creatures are woolly, simpleminded and slow. (No, not husbands) They’re sheep,
and sheep can't sleep.
For sheep to
sleep, everything has to be just right. No predators. No tension in the flock.
No bugs in the air. No hunger in the stomach. Everything has to be just so.
Unfortunately, sheep can’t find safe pasture, nor can they spray insecticide,
deal with the frictions or even find food for themselves. They need help. They
need a shepherd to lead them and help them to "lie down in green
pastures." Without a shepherd, they just can't rest. And without a
shepherd, neither can we.
In the second
verse of the 23rd Psalm, David the poet becomes David the artist.
His quill becomes a brush, his parchment a canvas, and his words paint a
picture: a flock of sheep on folded legs, encircling a shepherd. Bellies
nestled deep in the long, green grass. A still pond on one side, the watching
shepherd on the other. "He makes me to lie down in green pastures; He
leads me beside the still waters."
Note the two
pronouns preceding the two verbs: He makes me ..., He leads me .... So, who’s the
active one here? Who’s in charge? It’s the shepherd. The shepherd selects the
trail and prepares the pasture. The sheep's job (that’s us) is to watch the
shepherd. And with our eyes on our Shepherd, we'll be able to get some sleep.
"You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You."
(Isa. 26:3)
In fact, of the
10 declarations carved into the tablets, which one occupies the most space?
Murder? Adultery? Stealing? You'd think so. Certainly each is worthy of ample
coverage. But curiously, these commands are tributes to brevity. God needed
only 5 English words to condemn adultery and 4 to denounce thievery and murder.
But when he came to the topic of rest, one sentence wouldn’t suffice.
“Remember to
observe the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. You have six days each week for
your ordinary work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath day of rest dedicated to
the LORD your God. On that day no on in your household may do any work. This
includes you, your sons and daughters, your male and female servants, your
livestock, and any foreigners living among you. For in six days the LORD made
the heavens, the earth, the sea, and everything in them; but on the seventh day
he rested. That is why the LORD blessed the Sabbath day and set it apart as
holy.” (Exodus 20:8-11)
God knows us so
well. He can see the store owner reading this verse and musing, "Somebody
needs to work that day. If I can't, my son will." So God says, no, not your
son. "Then my daughter will." No, not your daughter, either.
"Then maybe an employee." Nope, not them. "OK, then I guess I'll
have to send my cow to run the store, or maybe I'll find some stranger to help
me.” Seriously? One day of the week you will say no to work and yes to worship.
You will slow down, sit down, lie down and rest. Still we object. "But ...
but ... but ... who is going to run the store?" "What about my
grades?" "I've got my sales quota to make." We offer up one
reason after another, but God silences them all with a poignant reminder:
"In six days the LORD made the heavens, the earth, the sea, and everything
in them; but on the seventh day he rested." God's message is plain:
"If creation didn't crash when I rested, it won't crash when you do."
But then again,
maybe we work so hard and rest so little because we think we’re invisible. You
know, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk
into the room while we’re on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. And inside
we’re thinking, “Can't you see that I'm on the phone?” Obviously not; no one
can see if you’re on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even
standing on your head in the corner for that matter, because no one can see you
at all. It’s as if you’re invisible.
The invisible
Mom. Some days you’re only a pair of hands and nothing more. Can you fix this?
Can you tie that? Can you open this? On other days, you’re a clock to ask, “What
time is it?” Or, a TV Guide to
answer, “What number is the Disney Channel?” Or, you’re a taxi to hail, “Right
around 5:30, please.” Some days you’re even a crystal ball – “Where's my other
sock?” “Where's my phone?” And my particular favorite, “What's for dinner?” Over
time, you’ve concluded that the hands that once held books and the eyes that once
studied history, music and literature are a thing of the past. Now? Now,
they’ve disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. And there
you are. There’s Mom. She's going, going, gone.
In the book, Great Cathedrals, by Bernhard Schutz, a
professor of architectural history at the University of Munich, he describes,
in exquisite detail, the great cathedrals of Europe. From Chartres to the
cathedral of Florence, his hardcover book covers the major Romanesque and
Gothic cathedrals in France, England, Germany, Italy and Spain. In it, there
are over 300 color photographs showing the cathedrals both inside and out,
including close-up architectural and sculptural details that, when combined
with the author’s text, give you a virtual tour of these magnificent buildings.
And although you may not have the time, or the interest, to read through this 8
lb., 472 page behemoth, even a modest reading reveals the cathedral’s beauty in
the simplicity of what they represent.
You see, no one
can say who actually built the great cathedrals because there’s no record of the
general contractor who was responsible. Nevertheless, the builder gave his or
her whole life for a work they would never see finished, and made unbelievable sacrifices
without ever expecting to receive the credit. The passion of their construction
was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A story of
legend in this book tells of a rich man who came to visit a cathedral while it
was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny, little bird on the inside
of a beam. The rich man was puzzled and asked the artist, “Why are you spending
so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No
one will ever see it!” Looking down from his scaffold, and with the utmost
faith and sincerity, the workman humbly replied, “Because God sees.”
God sees. And
God sees you, Mom. He sees the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one
around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no
cupcake you've ever baked, no Girl Scout meeting, no last minute errand is too
small for God not to notice and to smile about. You are building a great
cathedral – you just can’t see right now what it will eventually become.
Rather than
being invisible, exhausting yourself in an attempt to be seen, you are,
instead, a great builder. You’re the one who shows up at the job you’ll never
see finished to work on something that your name will never be on. Imagine
being a 14th century bricklayer. You work your entire life adding a
few more feet in a wall of a building that you’ll never see completed. “What
does it matter?” you say. Well, if you’ve ever seen the Cathedral of Notre Dame
(which took nearly 200 years to finish), you know why it matters. The truth is
that cathedrals could never have been built in a single person’s lifetime
largely because there were so few people willing to sacrifice to the same
degree as the builder.
And when you think
about it, do you really want your son to tell the friend he's bringing home
from college for Thanksgiving, “My Mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes
homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3 hours, and then presses
all the linens for the table”? That would be building a monument to yourself,
wouldn’t it? Instead, don’t you just want him to come home? And then, if there’s
anything more to say to his friend, wouldn’t you rather just hear him say, “You're
gonna love it here....” Yeah, probably so.
As mothers, you’re
building great cathedrals. The thing is that you can’t always be seen doing it,
especially if you’re doing it right. But one day, the world may marvel at not
only at what you’ve built with God’s help, but at the beauty that’s been added
to the world because of the sacrifices of invisible Moms … just like you. And
even if you’re not the 8th wonder of the modern world, God knows.
God cares. And God knows that “… the things we see now will soon be gone, but the
invisible will last forever.”
Happy Mother’s
Day.
Grace,
Randy
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