…and other life concerns.
So, I’ve been thinking about Moses’ prostate, mostly, how it’s never really mentioned or addressed in scripture. And I was thinking about how aspects of media, social media, the internet, news, and television, have created a sense of “awareness” and even “community,” yet, at the same time, it’s so much awareness and connectedness, so much information, about everywhere and everyone, it borders overwhelming and spread too thin, raising the question, “What can I do?”
It’s SO much to take in, vast and expansive…so many exquisite stories, 7 billion approximately, and all hold beauty and tragedy, life and death, every one pertinent, worthy, valuable. Behind every story, way deep down, is a soul, hand-crafted and God-designed, we aren’t just stories on the news. While 7 billion individuals seems like a lot, seen as a whole, it’s just one…all part of one family, made up of many parts. (The part about how we can’t choose our family members is another post…)
So, then I was thinking about how big a task Moses had in leading the Israelites out of Egypt, so he kind of needed to be focused on the thing at hand. See, at the time Moses was carrying out the task of leading the enslaved Israelites out of Egypt, he wasn’t scrolling Twitter or Facebook or World News, seeing all the other incredibly important causes or events around his country or on the other continents, or tweets about non-things like red cup outrage, or checking his calendar to make sure he was making his bi-annual prostate check-ups.
He just did the thing…the thing he was called to do.
Same with Joan of Arc, I mean, she changed the future and course of France from when she was 13 until she died at the stake at the age of 19, so hadn’t even qualified for a mammogram yet and likely hadn’t even had a PAP test…she wasn’t watching World News, distraught by the plights of peoples world wide, or even so crippled by the entirety of the war ravaging her country, but she just did the thing, right there, where she lived, within her community, and this little old 13 year old rocked history, unaware of the totality of it.
Then I was imagining all the amazing women I know and don’t know all over the world and picturing them with huge love in their hearts and God’s assurance of grace and might over their lives, and my heart swelled…
OH, the impact!
OH, the beauty!
OH, the power when women simply say, “Yes” and “Let’s do this…” and the ripple effects…oh, the ripple effects!
OH, the lasting effects of collaboration and focusing on THE THING! A THING! ONE THING!
These could be men, or boys, or girls, no matter the age, background, credentials, or training…but either way, seriously…the impact!
And then I look at my phone, email, social media or have a doctor’s appointment about a lump, or think about water in other countries or stories of women, or glance at our family calendar, or remember I need to pack for an upcoming trip or send a note to a loved one or pray for 7 friends with cancer or friends fighting for their marriages or for adoptions or try to remember if today is a no-carb day or a free day or if I actually should fast or plan a date night to always stay engaged rather than “just married”…and there are so many real things that matter. So many. And all important.
…then I look in the mirror and see myself, alone with only my head and heart and hands, and get overwhelmed because the worst thing happens…paralysis…loss of feeling, action, direction, purpose. I have no illusions I’m Moses or Jesus or Santa or all the amazing women all over the world, so then I wonder what my point is, how I can make any sort of impact or difference in the world…like, why am I here and what is the point of me and there’s just so much pain to heal…
See, our battle isn’t against flesh and blood. The red cup thing that wasn’t really a thing, was actually, INDEED, a thing, because the truth is, it was a petty opportunity to distract HUMANS from THE THING of loving EACH OTHER, no matter what we believe. It was an attempt to get us pointing fingers instead of turning our palms up and offering a hand, reaching for one another. It was symbolic of all the things that can easily divert us from loving well, in spite of our messes. Until we stop delineating between who is more deserving of our rallying, our generosity, our listening ears, empathetic open arms, but mostly, God’s unconditional love, we are still missing it. Do I really believe every single one of the Israelites that Moses led out of slavery was nice and always behaving or someone I’d agree with on every issue? There’s no way, just like “God so loved the world that He sent His Son…” wasn’t just for the ones on their best behavior.
I don’t claim to have all the answers. In fact, the less I claim to know, the more free I feel to be faithful with the small thing right in front of me. However, that only comes when I’m not stuck in a rut of paralysis, looking around, some days wishing my “just do the thing” was an organized, structured, approved-of, sponsored, official “thing.”
I don’t think I’m called to any Moses-scale operations, but I, like you, am called to avoid the distractions and be mindful of the one thing it all boils down to: practicing extravagant, unconditional, day-to-day, for everybody, kind of LOVE.
(images courtesy of pixabay free photos)
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