By Jaime Nava –
Tomorrow is moving day. Cool. Leading up to moving day has been a ton of work. Wife and I just bought our first home and we had the bright idea to renovate it. Take out a wall here. Put up some drywall there. Seems easy. It wasn’t. If not for the help of people around us, our family, friends, and congregation, I don’t know how anything would have gotten done. Along with my regular duties as pastor, the studying, the people to visit, the reading, the bible studies, and along with my wife being over 8 weeks along, and with this move, I am so stinking tired. I feel too tired to think.
But it doesn’t end there either. Of course I worry about my wife and her health. I worry about our daughter and her future. I worry about the bun in the oven. I worry about people who haven’t been to church in a while. I worry about the budget. I worry about my personal budget. I worry about whether I am doing a good enough job as a husband, father, pastor, sibling, and all that. Sometimes it all feels so overwhelming. And then I get on my own case about how good I have it. As screwy as things may be in our country, I have so much to be thankful for. So I get on my case for complaining. I tell myself to suck it up. My brain is playing ping pong inside my head at ludicrous speed.
I don’t have much to say this week because I’m slowly going insane. What I do have to say is important, if not to you, at least to me. Despite what is going on around (or in) me, I know that Christ has my back. It’s not that He won’t let me fail. It’s that He won’t fail me. He provides the daily bread despite my failures. He provides protection from the evil one, despite my dark side. He did not call me through my congregation to be the guy with all the answers. He called me to be His instrument of grace. From the vocal chords in my throat, He strums absolution. He resonates His body and blood in bread and wine. In a subtle sonic blast, water is transformed into something life saving. It’s through His Word, His promises, that Christian people are given life, protection, and what we need to survive another week, shoot, another day.
Those words aren’t only for others. They’re for me too. Even though they come from my mouth, they mean as much to me as they do to anyone else. I need to hear them. I need to know where it is that Christ is for me, given and shed. I need to hear that another poor miserable sinner has his sin blotted out. I need to be buried and rise each day. It is in these things that I know Christ has me. I need to hear that this is not my church but Christ’s. I even boldly waggle my crooked finger at God and tell Him that if He wants a congregation to remain open, He needs to keep it that way. He’s the only one who can.
We all have our burdens. We’re all exhausted sometimes. When I am too tired to think, I see just how strong Christ is for me. Christ is strong enough for us all.