Tired love

Thumbnail image by Microbiz Mag www.microbizmag.co.uk/burnout-statistics-uk/; used under Creative Commons License: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

Link to video: https://youtu.be/9ChuRX3TBfU

Clare L. Hickman

St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Ferndale

May 15, 2022—Easter 5C

Acts 11:1-18; Psalm 148; Revelation 21:1-6; John 13:31-35

          Someone named Tasha Suri recently tweeted, “Writing emails in 2022 is like, Hi X, How’s the burnout going? I hope less burny? Unfortunately, I also have burnout so can’t do the thing I said I’d do. I realise this will make your burnout worse and I’m sorry about that. Hoping for less burnout for you soon! Warmly, Y”

          Which … yeah … clearly resonated with my friends, because it’s all over my Facebook feed. As British understatement might put it, the world is “a lot” right now. It always is, and the last couple of years have just intensified that. Pandemic was a lot of work, and we’re tired. Which is hard, because many things still take more work than they did before. Which leaves us even less emotional and motivational energy to face things like the economic and political turmoil that threatens our country right now. Not to mention the war in Ukraine, and war and violence everywhere, including our own country. Then, on a more individual level, there might also be job losses or frightening diagnoses or perhaps a pile of smaller stressors. At any given moment, it can get to be too much

          There is so much on our “to do” list. And there is SO much on our “to worry about” list. A situation that sends most people in one of two directions: hyper-activity, in which you stave off the panic by running from one task to the next, with no time to breathe; or shut-down, in which you, well, shut down.

          Either way, when I get into this pulpit each week, I’m aware that it might feel as though I am simply adding one more thing to one of your lists: something that you need to do, or something that you need to worry about. Worthy things, one might hope. Holy things, that burn with God’s love, God’s justice and God’s mercy. But still, when combined with the panicked edge of life’s burnout, things that might well confuse you into thinking your lived faith, if not your entire relationship with God and Jesus, are tasks for you to perform.

          In other words, to start to believe that your redemption (and the redemption of the world) lies on your own shoulders. That the stress and chaos of your life, and the stress and chaos of the world, can and should be fixed by you, and if you aren’t handling it, then it’s on YOU.

          Admittedly, to be a Christian calls us to recognize our responsibility for the world. Following Jesus means that we choose to be guided by his teachings and actions, which keep us on the right track and open up our hearts. But … that is not actually the good news. I myself have said before that the good news is that the love and power of Christ will pour into our open hearts, and work through us. But even that is not the whole of the good news. The good news, especially when you are burned out at a level that might well be unprecedented in your life, is that God knows that you cannot do it all. And that, in fact, it isn’t your job to do it all, so it’s okay that you are utterly failing to manage to do it all.

          The heart of the good news is that, when it all comes down to it, the salvation of the world is God’s job. Only God can truly redeem the world. And all that will come of us forgetting that fact is that we will get completely burned out.

          So this seems an excellent day to be reminded of the biblical promise of that redemption, expressed so beautifully in the image of the New Jerusalem. Here in the Book of Revelation, as in all apocalyptic literature, a beleaguered community finds hope in God’s promise to right all wrongs, overthrow all oppressors, and return God’s people to paradise. Only this time, paradise isn’t the primordial garden, it’s a city! It’s the New Jerusalem, descending to earth to be God’s eternal dwelling place with us.

This is the end of the world. By which I mean, this is the purpose, the ultimate intention, the fulfilment of the world God made. And it’s an image of all of Creation, living in harmony with God and each other, according to the dream of God that brought this whole mess into being in the first place. It is all that we could possibly hope for; and all that we would be working for, if we happen to have the energy to get out of bed; and it WILL happen. Because God will bring it about. God will. It is God’s will.

In the church world, we are currently in the midst of the season of Easter. Which means that we’re invited to see signs of new life and transformation in ourselves and the world. We are assured that the resurrection makes all things new in some way. But it’s hard to deny the fact that lots of things aren’t new at all. Many of us still feel worn down and exhausted, despite the sunshine that graced us this past week. And there is suffering and injustice all around, as there always has been, even with the life-giving power and presence of the risen Christ to fill and guide us.

Which is why we still need that promise of the Last Day, the promise of apocalyptic literature, assuring us that God will gather it all in, at the end. We need our sacred story to acknowledge this almost unbearable truth that there are sufferings in this world too big to be redeemed during the course of history. And we need to hear that God will, eventually, redeem every single moment of it.[1] At which point, we will no longer have a “to worry about” list. And the only thing on our “to do” list will be to sing praise to God.

That’s it. The ultimate purpose of humanity is to worship God. Which, to be honest, sounds a lot easier than the business of loving one another. Essentially, that was the response one of you had to last week’s sermon: “Well, I’m glad someone has the energy to respond to other people’s needs, because I’m just plain exhausted!”

To which I would reply: never forget that loving one another is a mutual thing. And sometimes, just allowing ourselves to be loved is the most profound, significant way we could live out the commandment. Allow yourself to be cared for. Or, if that’s not on offer, at least love yourself enough to release the guilt you might feel at not being able to take on every last thing you’re being asked to do this week.

Your tired love will do fine. Because you aren’t the savior of the world. The world is too big for you to save. Heck, the world is too big for the resurrection of Christ to have saved it in the way we’d have liked it to be saved! That will have to wait for the Last Day, the story of which draws its power from the simple assurance that much of what we see around us is NOT God’s dream for the world.

But God’s dream is eternal. And God is always dreaming that dream into being. And that is enough, perhaps, to rest back into and soothe your burnt-out edges. May it be so, Amen.

[1] The Rev. Sam Wells, Sermon Preparation Workshop, May 10 2022 on HeartEdge FaceBook page. https://fb.watch/c-RQPah4Z3/