Tired

As we get toward the end of this week, I’m just shot.  Exhausted.  Worn out. 

Ever been there?

It’s not all bad stuff—in fact, some really good stuff!  And, of course, some really bad stuff.  But mostly just a lot of “stuff” stuff.  I see the brokenness of those around me.  I feel the reality that their brokenness is also my brokenness.  I start to work on crossing things off the to-do list.  More stuff gets added to the to-do list.  I realize more stuff is being added than is getting checked off the to-do list.  I find myself adding stuff to the to-do list that I’ve actually already done, just so I can check it off.  I find that those things are decreasing in their impressiveness—things like eating lunch don’t typically require a slot in Microsoft Outlook.  And I realize that I’m not only tired, but I can now add somewhat unproductive to that as well.

And normally, I just roll with all that.  You probably do too.  But today, I’m just wiped out.  Bodily tired?  Check.  Emotionally drained?  Check.  Spiritually zapped?  Double check.  At least I’ve completed one list for the day.

For years I’ve been fascinated with the ancient church in Ephesus.  It’s the first-century church that we have the most information on—a relatively detailed account in the last 1/3 of the book of Acts, a letter bearing their name that Paul wrote, two letters from Paul to their young pastor Timothy, and finally, the words of Jesus Himself as He addresses the church in Revelation 2.  When I imagine that church, I imagine a well-oiled machine.  They were rockin’ and rollin’ long before the Beatles ever broke onto the scene.  They had solid Elders, strong teachers, watched their doctrine carefully, and were “enduring patiently.”  (Revelation 2:3) The church was planted and set-up by Paul himself, who becomes a sort of consultant for them.  They had Timothy, the young all-star pastor hand-picked by Paul to lead this great church.  And guess what?  Within just a few generations, the church was completely gone.  Wiped out. 

That should make all of us nervous—it certainly does me!  There was far more going for them than we have going for our church… and most of the churches in the world, I might add!  And within a few short generations, it was all gone.  Poof.

What happened?  I think we get a clue in Revelation 2:4-5: “You abandoned the love you had at first.  Remember from where you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first.”  They were chugging away at all the externals, but they had lost their first love.  They were getting the outside right, but missing the core.  And what is Jesus’ prescription?  Do the works you did at first…

Think back—if you’re a follower of Jesus, what did you do when you first fell in love with Him?  For me, I devoured the Word.  I mean, devoured.  Reading, memorizing, studying, cross-referencing.  Devouring.  I loved it.  And you know what?  When I find myself truly weary—not just tired from a long day, but truly weary—I almost always find myself having slowed in those things I did at first. 

I’m so thankful that Jesus acknowledged that we would get wiped out.  “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest…” (Matthew 11:28)  When we’re weary, He’s the only source of life. 

Sure, we can keep plugging away, just like the church in Ephesus did.  We can keep shaping the externals around what everyone expects of us while we fall apart on the inside.  And when we do that, I wonder if there will be a day where we’ll wake up and realize that our faith is going the route of the Ephesian church… slowly disappearing.  External righteousness doesn’t help us, but it does make us tired.  What does Jesus say when He calls?  “Come to me…”  Not check off the moral to-do list.  Not meet everyone else’s expectations.  Not rest inside the mold of cultural religiosity.  Come to me.

I think being weary might be a gift.  It’s in our weariness that we’re invited; and maybe it’s only in our weariness that we’ll truly come.

Rest well, my friends.  I’m planning on it.