Brrrrr……it’s a little chilly this morning! Fortunately, I am lucky enough to have the luxury of parking my beautiful red Nissan Versa, Nora, in my garage at night. Truly her mother’s daughter, she doesn’t like the cold much and can be pretty cranky in the morning if she is stuck outside where it isn’t warm enough for her to get a good night’s sleep. As a mother who cares so deeply about her children, I always do my best to ensure that Nora always has a warm bed. But while it is difficult for me to admit, I must divulge that my motives for keeping Nora warm are more than slightly narcissistic. After all, when morning comes and my cold, tired hand swiftly turns the bronze doorknob granting me access to Nora’s lair, I am noticeably excited that I am able to sit in her seat without shivering so much that my knees knock together and it becomes unsafe for me to drive her. (You may think I am exaggerating, but I’m sure my husband would be delighted to tell you about the small, bony icicles that slowly creep over to his side of the bed every night- despite the sweatpants, sweatshirt, and electric blanket that encompass them).
Fortunately, in spite of myself and my utter distaste for any temperature readings below 75…and thanks to my wonderful, too-often-neglected garage, I was able to coax myself out of bed, into the garage, and out with Nora this morning. We made our first stop shortly thereafter, and picked up a friend on the way to work. A few of us had decided to meet early to pray together this morning and, lucky for Nora, I was unmistakably looking forward to it! Most mornings, Nora has the privilege of hearing me complain about the busyness of my life or, if she’s lucky, I will simply sit in silence as my annoyingly heavy eyelids fight to stay open. This morning however, my demeanor reflected a slightly different aura.
You see…have you ever seen a hamster run inside one of those wheel things? You know, where they just go around and around and around and….around? Well, I am joyous to disclose to you that I have been granted the opportunity to observe such a magnanimous feat many times. In fact, I feel like there must be a tiny hamster in my brain right now- just running, and running, and running in circles. (I know it’s crazy, but he’s in there! And because he and I have spent so much time together lately, I have elected to give him a name. Rico). Since his arrival, Rico hasn’t ceased to demand my attention. If I begin to turn my back on him, or contemplate purchasing other hamsters to join him, he just runs faster and harder. He was running so fast this morning that I decided it was time to introduce him to my friends. And you see, when I finally decide to share Rico, he doesn’t come out looking all cute and fuzzy and hamster-esque. Nope. In fact he doesn’t look like anything. Rather, he sounds like a jumbled-mess of what? that can sort of be summed up as: “What would it look like to switch burdens with Jesus?”
You see I can’t help but giggle at myself a little bit. A chuckle maybe. Ok….maybe a full out, belly busting laugh! I mean, not only have I started naming the “hamsters” that are running through my mind, but I have also allowed myself to live a bit of irony as of late. Exactly two weeks ago, I stumbled upon the thought that maybe I didn’t quite understand what Jesus meant when He asked us to “learn the unforced rhythms of grace” in Matthew chapter 11. I asserted that maybe the backpack full of crap that I have been carrying is far too “heavy and ill-fitting” to be what the Lord has intended, and I decided to embark on a new leg of my journey in order to discover these “unforced rhythms of grace” that Jesus talks about.
No sooner had I typed these words, then I had decided to pick up more and more and more pebbles and toss them into my backpack. It was almost as if some unconscious voice (I imagine it as a deep, scratchy, old grandma voice- almost like the wicked step-mother in Cinderella) inside of me was telling me- “Megan! Megan!!!! Listen to me you fool! Your backpack is EMPTY, you little light-walking, free-living snot! Where do you get off thinking that you are so special? So special that you can just carry around an empty backpack while our backs are bending under the weight of these rocks?! What in the cottage cheese are you thinking?? Get your relaxed muscles back to work! NOW!” And just like my dog Riley when he feels like he is in trouble, I immediately obeyed. I elected to leave behind the green pastures and quiet waters that David talks about in Psalm 23, and trudge out to the desert to pick up more boulders. More pressures. More burdens.
Let me say that again. I decided to put one foot in front of the other and trudge out to the hot, dry, dreary desert…and pick up pebble upon pebble, some of which I am sure were no more than petrified pieces of dog crap. I did it. It was me. This morning, I was reminded by a friend that my backpack of crap doesn’t fill itself. (As I’m sure you have witnessed, crap can’t jump!) For something to end up in my backpack, I have to make the choice to put it there. This is a new concept for me. For as long as I can remember, I have had this vision of Jesus standing above me with a slingshot full of rocks, big rocks- aiming ever so carefully to make the seemingly impossible shot into my backpack thousands of miles below. (But of course, because He’s Jesus, He makes it every time). Surely He must have undergone years of stealthy sniper training to be able to hit my backpack with such wondrous precision. But as I sit here this morning, I realize that my fantastical image of a camo-wearing, sling-shot ripping Jesus could not be farther from the truth! Why? Call me crazy, but I guess I would have to say because He said so. He said, right there in Matthew chapter 11, that He would not lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on me. Well, there’s just one problem- this backpack has gotten so heavy and so ill-fitting that I can hardly stand it! My back and shoulders ache from the pressure, and at this rate, I am sure to be the new hunchback of Notre Dame before I reach my 30th birthday. How then, if Jesus said He wouldn’t lay any such thing on me…and the thing I am carrying couldn’t be heavier, could this backpack of crap be from Jesus?
So as I sit here, paper clip hanging out of the side of my mouth, knees shaking back and forth nervously, listening to the sound of a new floor being installed in my office…I wonder…what would it be like to switch backpacks with Jesus? What if I finally elected to give my worry-ridden shoulders a rest? For good? There is something inside of me that tells me this is possible. That rather than looking down from above aiming to hit my backpack with rocks, Jesus is standing right beside me, offering me a bag that is empty in exchange for my old backpack that has recently started to rip because of it’s continued use. And if this is true, if there is really a place where I can meet and switch bags with Jesus- I’m in! I both invite you to join my on this journey…and warn you that it may get a little messy. But what the heck...
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