A few weeks ago I preached on the story of Bartimaeus1, the blind beggar. When you preach from the lectionary you tend to run into the passage in other places as you prepare. It seemed like I couldn’t get away from Bartimaeus. He was in a shared doc with a close friend as she prepared her own sermon, he showed up during chapel at the seminary, he was in conversations with my church community, and in a podcast I listen to most mornings2.
Even amidst a busy week, my imagination ran wild thinking of Bartimaeus, and each time I interacted with the story it felt different. Each person, each sermon, each conversation held a different perspective, a different sacred reading, a new way of seeing the same old story I’ve known since childhood.
It also felt easy for me to get mixed up in the interpretations — mixed up in the “right” interpretation. I worried — Did I do justice to the story? Did I say what needed to be said?? Should I have focused more on Jesus’ followers? Should I have focused more on Jesus?
In her sermon my friend3 (mentioned above), began by quoting part of the Mary Oliver poem I Worried4. It’s not a poem I’m familiar with, so I had the pleasure of reading it for the first time. In the poem she asks: Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better? Oliver closes the poem this way:
Finally I saw that worrying had come to nothing.
And I gave it up. And took my old body
and went out into the morning,
and sang.
It’s easy for me to wonder about my own teaching of Bartimaeus, asking the questions from the poem — Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better?
Some days, those questions resonate, but last week I set them aside. I gave them up. I (metaphorically) went out into the morning to sing. I’m attempting to take Oliver’s words into my day today too — I’m asking what will it look like to take my (not quite old and note quite young) body out into the morning and really sing.
When friends have asked how I’m feeling about the election, I haven’t quite known how to answer. In years prior I’ve been a mess of worry. I’d read the same articles over and over buying into the idea of impending doom. I’ve spiraled to a place where all I can think about was the outcome and repercussions that were sure to follow.
This year I’ve chosen a different approach. I’ve reminded myself that the scrolling and spiraling keep me from the good work I am already doing. I haven’t turned my head entirely—I voted, had hard conversations, and wrote what felt like an endless pile of postcards encouraging people to vote—but this year, I refuse to lose myself in the hopelessness. I won’t lose sight of the good that already is5. I’m sure I’ll ask those questions sooner or later — Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better? But not today. Today, I’m focusing on the good work that’s already being done. My own work, but also the work of my community — social workers working toward improving mental healthcare, school librarians putting books in kids hands (and hearts!), spiritual directors listening to heartache and joy, songwriters helping us feel seen and less alone, and pastors showing up each week to preach the good news of God with us.
I hope you’ll join me today, and the days to come in a sort of resistance. I’m not asking you to turn away, but to press into the good work you’re already doing. To put aside your worry, your fear, your scrolling — and sing into the morning.
What good work will you do today? Will you push out your neighbors’ trash bins, send an email thanking a teacher, add a few more boxes of cereal to your grocery order to donate? My hope is that you’ll take your old (or young, or in-between) body out into the morning, and sing.
alongside you,
holly
Spiritual Direction News & Links
Sarah Bessey’s blessing was just what I needed to start the week, you can read it here. (Light a candle, take a few deep breaths, etc.)
Emily P. Freeman has a Liturgy for Election Day on her podcast, I highly recommend!
I found out last week that I’m the 2025 recipient of The Church Lab’s Empowering Experiments Mini Grant. If you live in the Austin area, stay tuned for more information about workshops & spiritual direction groups for ministry leaders who are interested in learning to Listen Like a Spiritual Director.
On December 3rd, I’m offering a virtual Preparing to Wait lunchtime retreat from 12 - 1:30pm CT. This will be a spacious time to prayerfully consider how you would like to enter the Advent season. For more information and to sign-up, follow this link.
If you know someone (or are someone!) who might be interested in meeting with me for spiritual direction, please follow this link.
Mark 10:46-52
Thank you for sharing these beautiful words. I needed to read them today.