The Barrenness of Busyness and the Fruitlessness of Worry

If I asked a room full of contemporary Americans what plagues them most, I imagine many would identify busyness and worry as major culprits.  Demanding schedules and the stress of daily life are common contemporary burdens.  At some point, we all fall victim to their debilitating effects.

Socrates wrote:  “Beware the barrenness of a busy life.”  Another wise man – Jesus – taught:  “Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life?” (Mt. 6:27)

Of course, sometimes it is good to be busy.  We may be helping others, or working to make a living, or busily but happily fulfilling family responsibilities.  But being busy becomes a barren enterprise when our schedules are so full that we lose ourselves, we forget about God, and we miss the whole point of life.  We are totally disoriented but too busy to realize it!  When this happens, our lives become barren because we are running in circles but getting nowhere.  We are checking things off long lists, but deep inside ourselves, we are accomplishing nothing.

Like busyness, worry can have a valid role in our lives.  Sometimes worrying motivates us to care for others or accomplish something.  But worrying becomes fruitless when it paralyzes us, when it becomes all-consuming and prevents us from living, loving and growing.  When this happens, we begin to sink deeper and deeper into fears and “what-ifs.”  We move farther and farther away from the simplicity of the love commands, the comfort of trusting God, and the serenity of the peaceful life we all long for.

It is hard – perhaps impossible – to simply tell ourselves to stop worrying and then do it.  It is almost as hard to just stop being busy.  But if we feel that worry and busyness are getting the upper hand in our lives, perhaps it is time to have a conversation with God.  It is time to ask him:  “Am I too busy?  Is my family too busy?  What are we missing?  How is my worry affecting others?  How is it preventing me from being the person you want me to be?  How are my busyness and worry preventing me from loving you and others?” 

If we take these questions to prayer with open minds and hearts, we may be surprised by how God asks us to change our lives and by the peace he wishes to give us.  We may find ourselves reassessing our priorities and trusting God with our futures a bit more than we have in the past.  We may remember that prayer, in and of itself, is a simple antidote to a hectic, anxious life.

Busyness leads to barrenness, and worry to waste.  Instead, Jesus is always urging us to a fruitful life.  Let’s talk to him about it. 

Post Script:  As is usually the case, I’ve written this more as a reminder to myself than to you!  I always enjoy hearing from you – your own wisdom and experience are a source of learning and growth for me.  You can always leave me a comment on my blog page (click the title of this post and it will take you directly there -- scroll down and you will see a place to "comment") or on facebook.  Or you may reply directly to this email if you prefer that your comment be read only by me and not be published online.

Vincent van Gogh, Wheatfield under Thunderclouds

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? 27 And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? 28 And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, 29 yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. 30 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’ 32 For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. 33 But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.  34 So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today” (Mt. 6:25-34).

The Rest of My Life, The Best of My Life

I recently took my daughter to a music lesson with her new saxophone teacher.  We went downstairs into his music studio, and I sat down at a table to work while they continued on into the next room for the lesson.  I fully intended to be productive for the next half hour. 

It wasn’t so much the sound of horns and laughter coming from the next room that distracted me (I’m used to that!).  It was the collection of newspaper clippings, inspirational messages, jokes and pictures of Snoopy that hung all around on the walls of the studio.  Everywhere I looked, something interesting caught my eye.  After I had read and enjoyed some of them, I got out my work and tried to focus.  But one more message was propped up on the table, printed on a block of wood.  It said:  I’m going to make THE REST of my life THE BEST of my life.

Now some of you older folks will laugh at me or protest, but let me say it – I will soon be entering (if I haven’t already!) the second half of my life.  And I don’t care if you’re pushing 40, 70 or 95 – at some point in your life, a little voice in your head begins to whisper the words:  My best years are behind me. 

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with looking at the past with joy and nostalgia.  There’s nothing wrong with recognizing the beauty of youth or yearning a bit for the days when we had more energy and a higher metabolism.  But no matter how wistful we may be for the good things of the past, the future will always lay ahead of us as gift.  The future is unknown, and with this comes great possibility – the possibility that the best may actually be yet to come. 

But the best years won’t come by chance.  As we get older, it is easy to just settle in and “be ourselves” and “do what we always do.”  It is easy to maintain the status quo.  But the life we really want to lead before our God and before each other requires so much more than that.

Our future lies ahead as a merging of God’s grace and our own free will, a melding of God’s plans and our own, a partnership between human and divine that can lead to amazing things.  Maybe God wants us to accomplish something great.  Maybe he wants us to give some profound service.  Or maybe he just wants us to be totally devoted to someone who needs us. 

You know the bumper sticker:  God isn’t finished with me yet.  Well, he isn’t.  And that’s kind of exciting.  The future lies ahead as gift.  I’m going to make the rest of my life the best of my life.

The First Follower

Today I watched a TED talk entitled “How to Start a Movement.”  It was thought-provoking and funny.  The speaker’s main point was that it takes guts to be a leader, but it might take even more guts to be the leader’s first follower.  Movements, he said, are started when some brave person decides to follow a “lone nut.”  The first follower is the one who makes a solitary evaluation and takes a massive personal risk.  But this follower is the one that makes it safer and easier for another person to follow, and then another and another.  The first follower is the hinge of the movement.

The video shown by the speaker to illustrate this point is hilarious and has nothing to do with “the Christian movement.”  And I certainly wouldn’t refer to Jesus Christ as a “lone nut” (though he’s been called worse).  But I was struck by the importance of the “first follower.”  It made me think of you.

We might identify Jesus’ “first follower” as Mary or one of the disciples.  But somewhere and at some time, you will need to be this “first follower.”  Whether in your home, or in a friendship, or in your workplace or in some other public arena, you will be the one who stands by Christ when he looks like a “lone nut.”  You will be the one who has to go over and look nutty with him!  You will make an evaluation and take a risk.  You might look like a fool.  But you will be the hinge that starts a movement. 

"Have the courage to follow and show others how to follow."

I Believe in Dinosaurs

Indulge me for a moment in a strange memory.  I was standing in the Museum of Natural History in Washington, D.C., in the dinosaur exhibit, in front of one of those huge reconstructed dinosaur skeletons (a brontosaurus, I think).  I looked at it for awhile, not really thinking much about it one way or another.  Then I looked down and saw a replica of a baby dinosaur, curled up at the big dinosaur’s feet.  It was very small and sleeping, and it was very close to where I was standing.  Something about the replica held my gaze and for several long moments – I was totally transfixed, totally focused on the baby brontosaurus. 

Suddenly I had a strange and profound realization:  Dinosaurs actually existed! 

But I knew that already! 

Didn’t I?

I don’t know what amazed me more – my newfound belief in dinosaurs or the discovery that I had apparently not really believed in dinosaurs for my whole life!  Like everyone else, I had learned about dinosaurs since childhood.  I never got especially excited about them, but I certainly had no reason to doubt their existence.  And yet in that moment at the museum, I realized that I had never really allowed myself to believe – to imagine, to grasp, to fall into – a reality where these fantastic creatures actually lived and breathed and mated and ate each other, long before human beings existed – in my world – in Texas for goodness’ sakes!  Looking at that baby dino, I suddenly “got it” – the truth broke in, and I imagined and believed in a world of dinosaurs, a time before humans, something incredible but true.

This experience in the museum happened to me as an adult.  And when I realized that I hadn’t actually believed in dinosaurs even though I thought I did, I wondered about all the other things I think I believe.  I wondered about God and Jesus, forgiveness and Eucharist.  I wondered about heaven and hell, death and forever.  I wondered about the little doubts that nag at me sometimes and the big things I take for granted.  I realized there are things I never really let myself imagine and things I want to imagine but can’t. 

It seems that part of being human is not fully knowing our own minds.  I thought I believed in dinosaurs, but in reality, I was only coming to believe in them.  And so it is with the truths of our faith.  Do we believe in them?  Yes we do.  And we don’t.  And we might.  And we will. 

For now, we can add to our daily prayer the honest words of the father of a convulsing boy, who pleaded with Jesus:  “I believe!  Help my unbelief!” (Mk. 9:24)

Dinosaurs existed.

My Salvation

Those who have met me in recent years may be surprised to know that I was a somewhat melancholic teen.  For years I saw the world as very black and white; I saw good and bad.  I wanted everything to be good, and I was unhappy that some things were bad.  Despite my own happy childhood I looked around at the world and saw what I considered to be a negative place.  I couldn’t figure out how I fit into it or how it could ever feel “right.” 

I remember a conversation I had with the man who mentored me through those teen years and many years beyond – a parish priest who put up with my melancholy and who succeeded in the careful balancing act of loving me just as I was while simultaneously bringing about a substantial change in me.  One day I told him just how bad this life is, just how miserable.  I was armed with a quote from St. Teresa of Avila that I thought captured the whole awful mess of life.  “Life,” I said, “is like a bad night in a bad inn.”

I was sure that God and all his angels and saints agreed with me.  But Fr. Tim didn’t.  He didn’t agree with me at all.  And his response shifted the entire worldview going on in my teenage brain.  It changed the way I saw everything including myself, him, God, suffering, my future.  It changed the way I saw my world and how I fit into it.  Fr. Tim told me life isn’t a bad night in a bad inn.  “Life,” he said, “is the moment of your salvation.”

I have never stopped believing that.  I have never stopped seeing my world and my life from this fuller perspective – one that recognizes life as a gracious moment, a time of encounters and relationships that bring me closer and closer to the heart of God if only I will allow it.  Sure, sometimes the inn feels run down or drafty or even dangerous.  Sometimes the other people in the inn rob, cheat and steal – or gossip or disappoint or annoy me.  Sometimes it is dark and the night in the inn feels long.  But the moment of my salvation is long, long enough for me to settle into the beauty of this inn and its people, long enough to learn how to live here with them and with myself, long enough to grow into my own salvation.  God has not left me here to flounder until morning comes.  He lives with me here, in this time and place.  This is the moment of my salvation.