Unnecessary

Snow and ice covers the road in front of the parsonage and no one, except a few, is braving the elements today. Authorities on TV and the radio encourage everyone to stay put, “Only necessary personnel should venture out.”

Well, I guess I am not necessary. I usually think otherwise. I think and act as if the world might not go on unless I am turning it on its axis. As pastor-in-charge I am responsible for running the church, keeping the gears greased, making sure spiritual life is happening, assuring the sick and troubled that God is with them. Who will make sure the church carries on if not me?

A day or two of inclement weather is all it takes to disabuse me of my indispensability. Nobody is distressed if the church office stays closed for a couple of days. The bulletin will eventually get put together. The phone calls and correspondence that seemed so necessary can wait a little longer. Appointments can be postponed. Only necessary personnel should venture out.

The weather comes as a wake-up call to my need for Sabbath. I am as guilty as everyone else in our culture of belittling the necessity of a day of doing nothing. I rationalize, “but I have to work on Sunday.” But my Fridays, the day when I am “off,” turns out to be a day of work, too. Only instead of wearing my preacher clothes, I’m wearing clean-the-house, work-in-the-yard, go-to-the-store clothes. Obviously not Sabbath-keeping.

Sabbath is intended to remind us that we are not necessary. A weekly dose of humility. Yes, the world will go on without us. God does not NEED us to keep creation spinning. We may take a rest, and reflect. Do nothing.

I know doing nothing is a heresy in American culture. But it could be the very antidote we Christians need to believing that we are at the center of the world. One day a week in which we observe the sufficiency of God might do us wonders. No need to gather manna. There is enough in our pantry for one more day. No need to do any work. It will still be there tomorrow. Turn off the computer. Don’t answer the phone. Go outside and play and delight in the beauty of creation. If you must do something, let it be something completely unnecessary – something that won’t accomplish anything more than evoking the joy and wonder of living.

Sit and talk with your spouse, your children, your friends. Take a walk in the park, through your town. Sit, (don’t dig or pull weeds) in your garden. Smell the roses. Listen to music. Love the one you’re with. Love the life you have been given. And give thanks that you are not necessary to the machinations of the world. What a relief it is.