The Unbearable Weight of Being Human
September 18, 2020
Some mornings I wake up just feeling baaaad.
Even as my head still rests on the soft, comfortable pillow, and the sun rises to light a new day, my wagon can already feel overloaded. I don’t always enjoy that moment when conscious thought rushes in, and sleep recedes each morning. I’ll confess that my mind’s first musings come from my human nature, not the Holy Spirit. Being human is no easy job, especially when I take on weight that I am not meant to bear.
I not only wake up carrying baggage from previous days, but dawning consciousness also brings to mind the many concerns that the new day might hold. My load isn’t unique – we all face similar issues in different wrappers: the sadness of a past or impending loss, worry about aging loved ones, growing children, or a wheezing dog, snoring nearby. Neglected friends, house repairs, health concerns, and job challenges are problems familiar to us all. The issues may be personal, but they are also universal.
Sometimes it is a small thing that weighs me down – something I did or said the previous day that I regret. A necessary chore I forgot to do. A subtle, nagging concern about the house. A long list of essential tasks begins to line up in my mind at sunrise, like a formation of soldiers preparing to march into battle.
It wasn’t always this way – it started during the three years that my sister had ALS - when my children were young, and the responsibilities were demanding. The weight of emotional and physical burdens was almost crushing. Until one day, I heard the story of Shrek the Sheep, and I had an epiphany.
In 2004, a merino sheep was discovered in New Zealand, hiding in a cave. The merino breed usually is shorn of its wool once per year, but “Shrek,” as this elusive sheep was later named, evaded detection (and shearing) for six years. By the time he was found, his wool weighed sixty pounds, enough to make suits for twenty men!
In Shrek’s story, I saw myself: hiding in the cave of my mind, hoarding my problems and worries, and not allowing the Shepherd to shear them from me and lighten the weight I was carrying. Like that wooly, overloaded sheep, the longer I went without turning over and releasing my burdens to God, the heavier I became.
As I read about Shrek, Psalm 23 came to mind, “The Lord is my Shepherd, I have all that I need. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He refreshes my soul. He guides me along the right paths for His name’s sake.”
I realized that I had forgotten who I was. Everyday, I woke up believing myself to be the shepherd, rather than recognizing my true position as a sheep in the Shepherd’s fold.
Deciding I needed a daily reminder, I searched my sheep collection (don’t worry; it’s not large enough for people to label me as “the sheep lady,” and not displayed in a “sheep room” like a creepy doll assortment) until I found what I was looking for: a large, white one, hanging from a string, with generous tufts of woolen fleece and huge, knowing eyes. Taking him to the bedroom, I looped his string around a ceiling fan blade, facing the bed.
Now, every morning when I first open my eyes, the sheep stares at me across the room, a visual cue to turn my focus away from my humanity, and toward my Shepherd. The silly creature prompts me to submit the worries “du jour” to the clippers…to let God trim the weight off my soul and use me and the trimmings for better things.
Being a “sheep of God’s pasture” doesn’t mean surrendering responsibility. God has given me children to guide, people to love, and tasks to tend. He made me a steward of some worldly possessions. He has given me jobs to do. But my primary job is to trust in Him and go where He leads me, to eat and drink from what He provides, and to rest in His care. I am to follow His ways – believing what He says is true and living by it. Following Him requires acknowledgment that He is trustworthy and good and will refresh my soul.
He alone shows me the right path, the way to proceed, how to treat others, and the best way to live. He shears off the wool that I collect while hiding in my cave, alone and afraid, and takes that weight on Himself. A sheep in God’s pasture rests in the fact that He is with us – providing and protecting, and leading us through the valleys, over the mountains, through the dark passes. When mindful of our sheep status, we accept that God did not put humans in charge of the universe - or even in charge of our little corner of it. He alone holds that position.
God has placed me in a flock with many people to love. It’s a gift and privilege to care for, support, and walk through life with them. But the “Ceiling Fan Sheep” reminds me that God didn’t call me an ox in the Bible – charged with hauling everyone’s load. He called me a sheep – making clear my role to be in the flock, bear burdens together with my fellow sheep, and look only to the Shepherd to know the path forward. I don’t have to worry about tomorrow, because He is already on top of that.
When I wake up every morning, and the inevitable memories of events, tasks, and issues of my life begin swirling into my head like cold wind through cracks in an old cabin, I focus on the Ceiling Fan Sheep. Although it’s not a very fashionable décor item, it is essential. As he hangs there each day, staring at me with wide, unblinking eyes, his imploring gaze reminds me of my place in the world. Focusing on him, I start praying – asking God once again to shear off the human concerns and worries that weigh me down and block my eyes from seeing Him clearly. Lighter and happier, I plant my feet on the floor to wander after Him another day.
What burdens are piled on your cart each day? Did you even realize you were carrying them? What could serve as a reminder to you to release them to God? In what ways do you find yourself taking on the roles meant for God alone?