Stop Picking at It

Working hard makes me sweat. This is unfortunate. Sweat can contribute to acne. And acne, at least in my case, can become inflamed enough to contribute to headaches. I have an overwhelming desire to scrape the zit off. Scraping it off feels productive. There is something deeply satisfying about feeling the evidence of the problem removed. There. Fixed it. I have accomplished something. Except I haven't, because now I have a wound, and the wound takes longer to heal than the zit would have taken to disappear. Because I am apparently gifted at turning minor inconveniences into archaeological excavations, I may eventually have a scar.

The original problem would have gone away. Instead, I created evidence of it. Forever. And I think we do this with life. We see something irritating, painful, unfair, embarrassing, frightening, or inconvenient, and our first instinct is:

DO SOMETHING.

That could be to fix it, explain it, defend yourself, correct somebody, win the argument, rehearse the conversation you should have had three hours ago, imagine the conversation you're going to have tomorrow, figure out what everybody really meant, figure out what they should have meant, figure out what you're going to say when they say the thing they probably aren't going to say, et cetera. And if necessary, lie awake at 2:17 in the morning conducting a complete congressional investigation into an event that happened Tuesday.

We call this productivity. Sometimes “I need to do something” is just anxiety wearing a tool belt. Sometimes it's just picking at the zit.

“Let Us Run”

Hebrews 12:1 says:

“Let us also lay aside every weight, and the sin which doth so easily beset us, and let us run with patience the race that is set before us.”

Hebrews has spent chapter after chapter telling us about the finished work of Christ, the superiority of the new covenant, the insufficiency of the old system, and the fact that we have access to God through Jesus.

And then:

“Okay, now that we've established that Christ finished the work, here's what you need to do: RUN AROUND PANICKING?”

No. That's not the argument. Hebrews 4 has already told us to enter God's rest. Hebrews 10 has already told us that Christ's sacrifice is finished. Hebrews 10:14 says that by one offering He has perfected forever those who are being sanctified.

And then, Hebrews 12 says: Run. But what are we supposed to run with? A backpack full of anxiety? A suitcase full of resentment? A trunk full of old arguments? Three decades of somebody else's opinion of us? The need to make everybody understand? The need to make everything fair? The need to fix every problem we notice?

No. Lay aside every weight. That's the point. Trying to run while carrying baggage isn’t smart. The Christian race isn't primarily about learning how to carry more. We need to learn what we don't need to carry.

Some Things Are Heavy Because We Keep Picking Them Up

Peter, in 1 Peter 5:7, gives us an astonishingly simple alternative:

“Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.”

Not: “Analyze all your cares until you understand why you have them.”

Not: “Carry your cares until you become spiritually mature enough to stop caring.”

Not: “Make a spreadsheet.”

Give them to Jesus, because He can carry what you cannot. He cares for you. Sometimes we think letting something go means saying it doesn't matter. It doesn't. Sometimes letting something go means saying: “It matters, but I don't have to be the person who carries it.” You can recognize that somebody treated you badly without spending the next ten years constructing a museum dedicated to the experience. You can recognize that a behavior is not part of the life Jesus saved you to live and stop (Ephesians 4:28). You’re free (John 8:36). 

We tend to think the present moment is just the present moment, but what we repeatedly give our attention to has a way of becoming part of our future. If I spend today rehearsing resentment, tomorrow I am more practiced at resentment. If I spend today looking for reasons to be offended, tomorrow I will be better at finding them. If I spend today worrying about every possible catastrophe, tomorrow I will have strengthened the habit of worrying. If I spend today obsessing over somebody else's behavior, I may eventually become an expert on somebody else's life and a stranger to my own. Attention is not neutral. There is a question worth asking: What am I practicing today? 

Not Every Irritation Requires Intervention

This is where my zit becomes theology. Sometimes the zit is going away. You don't have to participate. This is a difficult concept for human beings. We like participation. We like feeling useful. We like evidence that we have done something. We especially like evidence that we have done something when we are anxious.

Anxiety says, “DO SOMETHING.” Faith says, “Trust.” Anxiety says, “Fix this.” Grace says, “You don't have to carry this.” God did not hire you as assistant manager of the universe. He's been God without your supervision for quite some time. You are not personally responsible for making sure every stupid thing stops happening. Some things may require action, confrontation, boundaries, repentance, etc. Some things require somebody to call the police. But some things require you to say, “Nope. I'm not picking at that.” Learning the difference requires wisdom.

Jesus certainly calls us to action. Paul tells Christians to love one another, serve one another, bear with one another, forgive one another, encourage one another, and do good. There is a difference between doing what love requires and trying to control everything that makes us uncomfortable. You can spend your entire life fighting things that never needed to become your battles. You can spend enormous amounts of energy trying to make people understand you who have already demonstrated that they aren't interested in understanding you. You can spend years trying to obtain an apology from somebody who isn't going to give one. You can spend your future trying to repair a past you cannot change. And all the while, He’s standing there holding the race bib and saying, “You know you don't have to bring all that with you, right?”

The Scar Is Sometimes the Thing We Made

Here's the heartbreaking part of picking at the zit. Eventually, you forget why you picked it. You just have the scar. I wonder how many scars in our lives work that way. The original offense was temporary. The argument lasted ten minutes. The embarrassment lasted an afternoon. The disappointment lasted a season. The person who hurt us has already forgotten it. The circumstances changed, but we kept picking, and eventually the wound became part of our identity.

“I am the person who was betrayed.”

“I am the person nobody appreciated.”

“I am the person who got cheated.”

“I am the person who was treated unfairly.”

“I am the person who got rejected.”

“I am the person who was lied about.”

Maybe those things happened. Maybe they were terrible, but they don't have to become the permanent definition of who you are. Christ has already given you a better identity. You are not the sum total of the things that happened to you. You are not the worst thing somebody said about you. You are not the mistake you made. Forgiveness does not require pretending something didn't happen. Grace does not require calling evil good. Letting go does not mean you approve. Refuse to allow what they did to determine what you become. That's freedom, and that’s better than winning an argument.

Choose What Gets Your Attention

Every day we wake up with a limited amount of attention. We have only so many hours, only so much emotional energy, only so much mental bandwidth, and whether we realize it or not, we're spending it. Whatever you repeatedly spend it on is going to have an effect on you. You are investing your life somewhere. The question is whether you're investing it in something you actually want to grow. You can spend thirty minutes watching strangers yell at each other about something you didn't care about when you woke up. And now you're furious, at people you have never met, about a subject you couldn't explain yesterday. Congratulations. The algorithm discipled you.

Let It Heal

Maybe today there is something bothering you, and maybe the Holy Spirit is saying, “Stop picking at it.” Not because it doesn't matter, but because you matter. You don't have to turn every irritation into an assignment. You don't have to respond to every provocation. You don't have to fix everything. You don't have to make everybody understand. You don't have to keep reopening something God is perfectly capable of healing. The invitation isn't, “Come to Me, and I will give you another backpack.” It's:

“Come to Me, and rest.”

Run your race. Believe in Jesus. Love people. Tell the truth. Do the good that's actually yours to do. Set boundaries when boundaries are necessary. Fight the battles that love requires you to fight. But when you discover yourself standing in front of the mirror, scratching at something because the scratching feels productive, ask yourself, “Am I actually helping this heal?” Sometimes the most faithful thing you can do is nothing. The best evidence that something has been healed is that eventually you forget it was ever there.

Some of us are praying, “Lord, take this burden from me,” and then five minutes later we're like, “Where'd my burden go? I need that. I want to think about it again.” Go ahead, stop picking at it, and keep running. You've got somewhere to go.

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