In My Mess

Each week St. Stephen puts out a newsletter called "The Voice." The Voice goes to each of the church members, though it is probably only read by a few dozen of them. Nonetheless, when I was asked if I wanted to write a weekly article I was tickled. It reminds me of getting stuck with "The Front Desk" when I was on staff with Northwestern College's newspaper, The Beacon. The following is my most recent installment. Before you mock me or judge the quality of my writing, consider my audience (the portion of an already small congregation that is dedicated enough to read an article written by a new youth leader that no one really knows).

This past week I painted my office, or rather my office was painted. I didn’t actually do any of the work necessary in order to turn the deathly pale yellow walls to a pleasant “Three Olive Martini Green” (yes, I did pick the color based on its name). That was someone else’s job.

Sunday after church one of the trustees asked me when a good time would be to have the job done. I smiled and said that any time would be fine, thinking that the transformation would be a quick and simple process; that I would leave the office one day and come back the next to find the renovation complete, everything just as I had left it aside from the newly painted walls. I imagined I would hardly know they were there.

I was wrong.

It started on Monday while I was working on the weekly youth update and doing some curriculum research. The designated painter came in to look things over. We discussed what was to be done with the massive set of bookshelves that covered most of the wall opposite my computer. One, it was decided would go into Pastor Joe’s office; the other I planned to keep. The painter looked over the shelves. Another helpful body entered the office and also began looking over the shelves, which they soon discovered were not only rather cumbersome, but were screwed into the wall and to one another. A third onlooker entered the office and gave an opinion on them as well.

I left.

The next day I returned, expecting to see green walls and maybe even some extra work space. Once again, I was wrong. The shelves had been shoved to the middle of the room; creating a tight-quartered environment that would unnerve a claustrophobic. DVDs were strewn about the floor. The Christmas lights I had painstakingly tacked around the perimeter of the door were piled in a heap on my desk. The laminator had crept precariously close to the “visitor chairs” that were now nearly flush with the desk. The walls were neither yellow nor green, but were just beginning to show signs of trim, as if grass had begun growing from both the floor and the ceiling.

I considered working in the library or the youth trailer for the day, but was too dependent on my desktop to leave. So, I plugged in my kettle, made a cup of tea, lit a candle, and set to work in the middle of my office, in the middle of my mess. 

Life is like that sometimes, isn’t it? Messy. Cluttered. Confused. The laundry is half-finished, the science fair project is due next week, and that chicken breast in the fridge is getting dangerously close to expiring because you still haven’t found the time to make a sit down meal this week (after all, last night was the middle school orchestra concert that your son failed to mention had been moved up an hour until 20 minutes prior).

Often when my life gets disheveled so do my priorities. I need only to sacrifice a little sleep, commit to a few too many social outings, skip a couple work outs or take an extra shift waiting tables in order for the metaphoric walls to start closing in. And when life gets cluttered, messy, confused, the last thing I want to do is make space. To sit. To be still. To wait on God. To not do the dishes, return the black flats, or check my facebook messages. 

I’ll do that after I’ve replied to these text messages, I reason. After I’ve taken a shower. After I’ve washed the pile of dishes in the sink, addressed my Christmas cards, folded my underwear and returned my library books. Essentially, after I’ve cleaned things up. But if I’m honest, my life will never be cleaned up. There will always be something to do, to clean, to fix, to sort. God wants me now, not after my taxes are finished or my digital photos have been sorted, ordered, and stored. He invites me to sit in the middle of my mess, to shove aside the obligations I’ve taken on and make a little space.

I imagine Jesus would be more than happy to squeeze through the half-open door of my office, side step the DVDs, swing his legs over the arm rest of my office chair, and have a heart-to-heart with me across the laminator. He may even unwrap a Hershey kiss and ask me what I dreamed about last night or when I was planning on going home for Christmas. Jesus knows how to make space. Even when the hungry, the poor, and the powerful were begging his presence he spent time in solitude. Jesus sat down in the middle of the mess of the world and he was still. In the stillness is where we find peace; peace that we can carry with us into the mess of life like a flashlight into one of those underground caves you learn about in third grade science class. It isn't easy. It is, in fact, ridiculously difficult to be intentionally still. But it is possible and it is worth the effort, the sacrifice necessary to make space.

As I sit in the middle of my office, typing this article, wondering at what point I'll actually feel "settled" I realize that it will have more to do with the state of my spirit than the positioning of the shelves or the presence of the laminator. And so I work, in the middle of my mess, to make space, and in doing so I learn.

 

May you have the patience to accept the slow process of transformation. May you have the strength to pursue the tasks at hand. And may you find peace as you make space for stillness in the middle of the mess.