Christ, King of the Weary
I wasn’t gonna publish this post as it was for Christ the King/Reign of Christ Sunday (Nov 21), and it felt irrelevant after a couple of days. However, I felt a nudge. So for better or worse, the words that follow reveal where I have been the last few weeks. I write this post out of weariness - in my body, my heart, my mind and my spirit. It’s Thanksgiving week, but my soul compels me to maintain radical honesty as an act of faith. So if you’re feeling a similar way, just know that you aren’t alone. It’s that time of year. (And to all the grammar-elites, the verb tenses aren't my best - i'll do better next time.)
"God has the first word, he has the last word, and all the words in between are spoken in a vocabulary and by means of a grammar that are his gifts to us." - Eugene Peterson, Reversed Thunder
One thing many folks may not know about me is that my internal sense of time is tied to the Christian year calendar. No matter what the academic or cultural calendars say, my rhythms and thoughts move in response to the liturgical holidays. It’s a part of how I live by faith; and with almost two decades of observance, I can feel these rhythms in my bones. At this time of the year - where US citizens are getting ready for Thanksgiving and college students are preparing for finals - I am feeling the *end* of the Christian year; the last Sunday being designated Christ the King or Reign of Christ Sunday. For those who observe it, this special Sunday signals the belief that Jesus reigns over all of things, in all of creation and as Eugene Peterson says, is the first and last word of human history. As we end the [Christian] year, we celebrate that all things find their end, their fulfillment, and their culmination in Christ. This leads us to Advent, which is held as the beginning of the Christian year. There’s a lot more I can say about this, and to be clear not all Christians observe the Christian year or take it as seriously as I do. Nevertheless, I write this post to name that on this Reign of Christ Sunday, I am weary.
I am weary because the last 20 or so months of pandemic life made everything harder, even for an introvert like me.
I am weary because college students are experiencing the greatest mental health crisis I’ve ever seen and after 18 years of campus/college ministry they continue to be the first and last people I think about every day.
I am weary because I’m a part of a movement of Jesus-people whose internal struggles continue; struggles that must be navigated directly, not avoided. The significance of laboring for the future of the UMC doesn’t change the weight of it all.
I am weary because coming out as a same gender loving/gay man last May has cost me opportunities to serve God’s people and tested my trust in long time friendships, and that’s just hard.
I am weary because I can no longer ignore the daily anxiety I feel as a black man in the US, the distance I feel with those who don’t understand and the in-between space I often find myself.
I am weary because death has been close in the last few weeks and the weight of grief, even vicarious grief, is real. (Rest in peace and power Alan, Sandra, Megan, Julia, Alexa, and many others.)
And finally, I am weary cuz I pulled a muscle in my back moving things in my house on Saturday - confirming that I am indeed 41 years away old! (I bought a heating pad - I am fine.)
I am indeed weary. At the end of the [Christian] year, I’m at the end of my endurance, my emotions, my energy, and [sad to report] my empathy. I name my weariness, in part, because my soul reminds me what time it is - it’s the *end of the year!* To name my weariness is not a sign of weakness or withdrawal, it is an act and confession of faith. On Reign of Christ Sunday, my soul reminds me that weariness is met with God’s compassion, faithfulness, provision and unfailing love!
It is good news for me to hear, yet again, that the weight of the world is not on my shoulders; that any responsibilities I hold are being held by Someone greater than me. My weariness gives way to my conviction that Jesus is the beginning and the end, that all things including care for college students and healing from back pain, will find its purpose within the Alpha and Omega, the ruler of all things.
This conviction gives me permission to be weary - to lift my hands and whisper “this world, this pace, this calling is exhausting.”
It gives me freedom to sing loudly “When I was at my lowest, You still were on Your throne.”
At the end of the year, I have the confidence to confess with Paul, “…even if our bodies are breaking down on the outside, the person that we are on the inside is being renewed every day. Our temporary minor problems are producing an eternal stockpile of glory for us that is beyond all comparison. We don’t focus on the things that can be seen but on the things that can’t be seen. The things that can be seen don’t last, but the things that can’t be seen are eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:16-18 CEB) Gosh, go read the whole chapter!
To all who find themselves weary, I give you permission to embrace and name your weariness, even as you gather at the Thanksgiving table. That simple act of honesty could possibly yield a level of gratitude not experienced in some time.
If you are someone attempting to live your life in the direction of Jesus, He says: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28 NRSV) I would suggest that these words have a deeper meaning at the end of the [Christian] year and especially on a Sunday that we celebrate Jesus’ reign. Hear the words as a confirmation of His kind sovereignty and His desire to make all things new in our lives. This is what it means to live by faith.
‘‘Tis the season to be weary. ‘Tis the season to come to the end of myself. ‘Tis the season to rest, for there is more to do. ‘Tis the season to trust in the reign of the One who loves all. 💙