Becoming a People of Racial Reconciliation
Week 6
To the Weary and Heavy Burdened
I hear it several times a week from many of you, so I know I am not alone. We are weary, bone-tired, and discouraged. The uncertainty of COVID weighs down on us like a heavy blanket. This long season of separation, isolation, unemployment, and loss of church gathering has brought disappointment that feels like grief. At times it feels like the very atmosphere itself is heavier than it used to be. Am I stating it too strongly? Not strongly enough for some!
We are weary and heavy burdened. We cry out with David, “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” (Psalm 13).
It’s been a summer when our souls have been crying out for rest as we press into the invitation of Jesus:
“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,
for I am gentle and humble in heart
and you will find rest for your souls.”
Matthew 11:28-29 NIV
Still, when you are plodding along, yoked to Jesus, it’s comforting to know that Jesus was called a “Man of Sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief.” (Isaiah 53:3) Who better to accompany you through a tough time than a soul that’s experienced in suffering! Walking with Sorrow - the Gentle, Humble One - we have the opportunity to learn wisdom even as our hearts are enlarged by the pain of it.
“I walked a mile with Pleasure;
She chatted all the way;
But left me none the wiser
For all she had to say.
I walked a mile with Sorrow;
And ne’er a word said she;
But, oh! The things I learned from her,
When Sorrow walked with me.”
― Robert Browning Hamilton
“Blessed are those who mourn,” Jesus said, “for they are the ones who are comforted.” (Matthew 5:4) But not everyone chooses to mourn. Some choose to deny, ignore, stuff or distract. How can I walk with Sorrow and learn wisdom? I wondered.
The Bible provides for us a mentor in Jeremiah, the “weeping prophet”. Jeremiah spent forty years (basically a career) warning his people of the pending destruction that was coming upon them if they did not repent and return to God. People didn’t much appreciate his message of doom and gloom and let him know it with violent and humiliating acts of cruelty. Ironically, in spite of all the depressing messages he delivered, his most remembered words are ones of hope:
I will never forget this awful time,
as I grieve over my loss.
Yet I still dare to hope
when I remember this:
The faithful love of the Lord never ends
His mercies never cease.
Great is his faithfulness;
his mercies begin afresh each morning.
I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance;
therefore, I will hope in him!”
The Lord is good to those who depend on him,
to those who search for him.
So it is good to wait quietly
for salvation from the Lord.
And it is good for people to submit at an early age
to the yoke of his discipline:
Let them sit alone in silence
beneath the Lord’s demands.
Let them lie face down in the dust,
for there may be hope at last.
Let them turn the other cheek to those who strike them
and accept the insults of their enemies.
For no one is abandoned
by the Lord forever.
Though he brings grief, he also shows compassion
because of the greatness of his unfailing love.
For he does not enjoy hurting people
or causing them sorrow.
Lamentations 3: 20-33
“Let them sit alone in silence,” coached Jeremiah. “Let them lie face down in the dust”. And so I did. Literally. I lay face down on my carpet, which I found to indeed, be dusty, for ten minutes a day for a week. Taking his words to heart: “It is good to wait quietly for the salvation from the Lord” and submit to the “yoke of his discipline”, I practiced this Way of Jeremiah. Face down. Silent. Hearing only silence in response.
And then, a few mornings ago I heard it! A word of hope! I realized it was not just for me, but for all of us who are in this journey together at The Vine:
“Arise, shine, for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord rises upon you.
See, darkness covers the earth
and thick darkness is over the peoples,
but the Lord rises upon you
and his glory appears over you.
Isaiah 60:1-2
It came, not sung loudly with the overly cheerful voice of a mother on a school morning. It came, not with the blazing sun of drawn-back curtains. Rather, it came as the soft, soothing, familiar voice of our Gentle-Hearted Shepherd:
“Rise and shine. Your Light has come. The Light of the World is risen in this dark place.
Sure, thick darkness of COVID and racial injustice is over all people.
Sure, this obscure season can feel too much at times!
‘But the Lord rises upon you and his glory appears over you.’
I have called you to be the candles, with the cellophane stripped off the wicks, awaiting the moment when I am ready to light you.”
Do you remember, Vine Family? Do you remember the cellophane-wrapped wicks and the word that came to us last November? Do you remember how we heard the Holy Spirit’s invitation to remove the protective wrapping around our hearts, peel away the attachments, and prepare for his coming fire? Gently he urges again: “Arise and shine, like candles in a dark place.”
And no one is disqualified.
A messenger comes to the mourner’s house.
“Come,” says the messenger, “you are needed.”
“I cannot come,” says the mourner, “my spirit is broken.”
“That is why you are needed,” says the messenger.
- Leon Wieseltier
We come, just as we are, with broken spirits or broken dreams; with heavy hearts or heavy burdens. Or, we come just as we are, with hope and courage and anticipation. We come, all of us, with meekness (emptiness) in order to be filled. We come to take the yoke of our Humble and Gentle-Hearted Teacher, keeping a restful pace with him as together we move forward to become reconcilers.