“Girl, I am so busy! I’m about to lose my mind!”
We make a joke, make light of the situation, while in reality we just went into the bathroom and cried. Have you noticed yet that we’ve become a society who wears busyness like a badge of honor? It’s as if the fuller our plate here on earth, the greater our reward one day will be. But to me that represents a merit based system the world has created rather than the grace we’ve been gifted. We end up building who we are on what we do, and I don’t think it’s supposed to be that way.
A man who goes to his job sun-up til sundown, 6-7 days a week is a “good provider.” To be a good mother we are convinced we must reach a certain plateau. Our children must be pristinely groomed in the latest fashion, ready for a photo op at a moment’s notice. You need the right brands, the right house, and the right vehicle. Success is equated with the size of your pocket book, and your Christianity is based on Sunday attendance or how many ways you donate. And while I’ll be the first to admit those things do have their importance, we’ve convoluted our thinking to assume they’re the most important.
Young moms are bringing their babies to Sunday service not because they crave the presence of Jesus and His worshipping church, but rather because it’s expected. They dress their tots in matching, monogrammed outfits not for their own pleasure, but rather to appear like their life is as presentable as their children’s wardrobes. We lose sight of the ragged appearance of the Gospel, like our piety holds precedence over the bloody scene on Calvary. Not to say we don’t need reverence, but when you place it above the cross you’ve elevated man before His Savior.
We become what we do. It’s all a show. There’s a parade of what a perfect life should be, and everyone is in line to put on their costume for the day. Every day becomes the same, a repetition of being who we think we need to be, not who we were meant to be. In other words, we’re allowing the world to direct our steps, and we’re pushing the will of God into the closet with the gift bags and tissue paper we hold on to for a rainy day. Do you really think the Lord is grading our performance?
God wants our love, and the world wants our distraction. If we get lost in becoming what we see on Instagram, we’ll miss who Jesus wants us to become. If we’re placing our importance on how many plates we can spin, we’ll forget who to cry out to when they fall. When our perfect world comes crashing down, we’ll be lost on how to pick up the pieces.
We worry, oh Lord, do we worry. We worry where our sustenance will come from. We place our trust in horses and chariots to win our wars, for its our savings account that saves us. It’s our insurance that ensures we’re taken care of. It’s our devotion to our clean homes, cleanly swept walkway, and community reputation that gives us our purpose. We shine our windows so the world can see the outward beauty we project, but the chimneys, those hidden, dark places are filthy with soot. Our hearts are corrupted, but our front yard is maintained. We can check the boxes of soccer mom and baseball dad, but meanwhile we’re sleeping in separate beds. We can throw the perfect holiday party, but our soul feels as dirty as the kitchen sink the day after. But at least our Christmas card looks professional.
We feed our satisfaction with shopping sprees and our worried mind with a bottle of wine, yet our souls are in torment; they are hungry. We’ve become a very anxious lot, and the craziest part is we assume that’s just how it’s supposed to be.
John 14:27 (NIV)