From a Deacon’s Desk

“A Lenten Devotion on Resistance and Rest”
From Deacon Lauren Morse-Wendt 

There are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit distributes them.  There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God at work. — 1 Corinthians 12:4-6  

Over the past year, I’ve noticed a common sign at protests:  “I need to be able to tell my grandchildren I did not stay silent.”  It hit me square in the heart . . . but differently now than just four months ago.  

The week of December 1, when Operation Metro Surge began, I had a major knee surgery.   The recovery meant six weeks with no walking or driving. It meant that the week that the government descended to terrorize our neighbors, I was stuck in a chair, unable to march, to carry groceries, or patrol.  And as the weeks went on, that familiar sign stopped inspiring me and began to haunt me.   

I began to find myself conjuring my imaginary grandchildren and their disappointment at my lack of heroics in this time. As others found ways to make change for Lent, I found myself more ashamed that I wasn’t doing enough.  That whatever goodness we offer . . . is never enough.  Our culture wants us to believe this; but, of course, this was never the point.  

Perhaps this is why the Ash Wednesday text is always about doing your good works in secret: to remind us that our good works are not the Gospel.  It is not our goodness that keeps the world, or the resistance, going: It is God’s goodness.  And we are not God. We are an important part of creation called to serve our neighbor, but we are not expected to be the savior of the world. Because we already have one of those.  

As I have slowly returned to society, I have been able to commit two measly bus patrol shifts a week. It feels small. I have not encountered ICE directly. My shifts have been quite broken only be squirrely kindergarteners bounding off the bus. 

If I told my grandchildren about these shifts, they might not remember the details.  But our Lenten journey reminds me that it is not about me. I am part of our web of resistance actors who are creating a powerful, protective network.  I am one string in a web that, together, creates a stronger community for all our neighbors.  One member of the body of Christ that works for transformation in the world    

You are part of that web.  Part of that Body of Christ.  

Whether God has called you to deliver grocery bags or raise funds, to pray for those in hiding or organize protesters, whether you preach with courage or talk to kids about loving your neighbor, your single string in our web of resistance is an essential one. Keep going; the work of the Body of Christ matters, whether we see it each day or not. 

When our proverbial grandchildren read the history books, they may not read about any one of us.  But they will read the stories of thousands of strands of silk who acted together to create a web that was strong enough to be God’s good news in the world. And when they read of that web, I am confident: our grandchildren will be proud of us.

Amen.