We ran out of coffee this morning at the house because we drank it too fast. Not having much in my cup, but more than Jen, I said, "I'll divide with ya!"
I'll divide with ya. I have neither said nor heard that since 1996 when Lorena Burnison died. And when I thought about Lorena, it reminded me to keep practicing the spiritual discipline of sharing grace.
In one of Thomas Merton's journals he wrote, "I have been absurdly burdened since the beginning of the year with the illusions of 'great responsibility' and of a task to be done. Actually whatever work is to be done is God's work and not mine, and I will not help matters, only hinder them, by too much care."
Here at the beginning of the new year, I have already noticed how ramped up everyone is. Last night at the gym, the January crowd was in full force. Fellow gym-rats back me up on this one: Health clubs are always busiest during the month of January.
Churches tend to fill up a little more as well. But we church types have to be careful. We have to be careful not to get too caught up in the false rhythms of new year's resolutions and confuse "church work" with spiritual transformation.
The work of God continues. If there are tasks to be done today in the name of Jesus, they are in thankful response to what God has already set in motion, including what God is doing today. It is a fool's errand indeed to believe that a little more activity on my part is going to do God any favors. Granted, that does not excuse me as a Christian from hospital visits, study, and everyday evangelism. But again, those "tasks" are acts of gratitude, rather than what I used to believe were accomplishments on my part as though God was supposed to somehow tell me "Thank you." Doesn't work that way. What God says is, "Well done, good and faithful servant." But I imagine when God says that, it must be akin to a mom telling her kindergartener that the fingerpainting on the fridge is the most beautiful thing in the world. The mom is not being dishonest. Neither is God. But both in their wisdom can see the works for what they are: Finite. And that's what we are: Finite.
When I stood at the graveside at the Gillispie Cemetery just outside Munday, Texas in 1996, I shed tears saying goodbye to Lorena Burnison. The sun was bright. It was windy. I stood there reading scripture as the tears mixed with West Texas dust fell onto the pages around Psalm 23. I was 24 years old. She must have been 150. I can't remember. But I loved her as a dear friend.
For two years before she died, most every Friday afternoon I walked around the corner from the parsonage to the nursing home and sat for an hour talking to Lorena. She had thick glasses that made her eyes look cartoonish. She was almost always sitting in her chair next to her bed under a quilt. I still have one of her quilts in my home. It's one of my most precious possessions.
It was usually just after lunch that I made my way over to the rest home to see her. I bounded through the door each Friday and said the same thing: "What's up, girl?" She would giggle and reply, "Oh just finishin' my food." And without fail she would continue, "You want some? I'll divide with ya."
I usually said "No," unless one of the ladies from church had brought her a lemon bundt cake, at which point I always said, "Yes." And there we sat. Two people who would have never met except for a common confession in Jesus Christ. An odd couple to be sure. But filled with the Holy Spirit, and a generous portion of lemon bundt cake.
I can still hear her voice. "I'll divide with ya."
When we walk through the doors of our churches this Sunday morning, we will proclaim eternal things with people we love, as well as with perfect strangers. But the work to be done this Sunday will not accomplish something for God that God has not already set in motion long before we presented God with our fingerpainted praise. We are thankful recipients of grace. And that's about it.
God's grace is meant to be shared. It's not a work to be accomplished, but a gift to be shared. I am trying to learn to share the grace I have so generously received with everyone I encounter. And if I see you today, or tomorrow, or Sunday, I'll divide with ya.
