We love a productive day…maybe too much?🤖
Ah, the allure of productivity. Accomplishment sends a rush through our bodies. We ride those waves into a flow state with no idea how much time has passed. Weary, but well worth it. Exhausted, falling asleep in the chair, but work is money. Money is good.
I say it all too often, “I’m doing well, thanks! It was a productive day!”
It’s the American way. Do more. Get another degree. Climb your way to the office with wall-to-wall windows overlooking the skyline. Look the part and be the best. Labor on, so you don’t have to think about what is missing inside. Like machines…we toil. Our backs strain until we shuffle, but "at least you made something of yourself, damn it,” so says our insecurities.
“It was a winged wonderland. My curiosity and interest never dissipated, it swelled.”
A few years ago I started noticing birds. The eastern bluebirds flipped in every few minutes to grab a few mealworms from our supply. And with all the back and forth, I spotted a mama robin tending to a nest tucked in the corner at the crossbeams of our roof, her four babies craning their necks, beaks wide open. I got to see the entire process—from start to fledge. A catbird community in the bamboo darted back and forth for feed from dawn till dusk. And one of my favorites, the towhees, foraged all day long, surrounding the house with their cuteness. We named the birds who set up their homes at our home, while some just migrated through, upwards of 26 species total.
It was a winged wonderland. My curiosity and interest never dissipated, it swelled.
Today, my small urban yard in the borough of Downingtown, PA is a popular spot for the neighborhood birds. I don’t have nearly as much variety, but I am experiencing no less delight. I set up our feeder station outside the dining room window, central to everything I do. To make the addiction worse, my husband bought me a bird feeder with a camera attached. Quietly sneaking up to the window standing rigid and just out of view, I fixate counting and noticing all our feathery visitors. Time slips away. “Productive," would NOT be the word I would use after 25 minutes of watching the swirl of house finches flit and feed. To my surprise, sometimes I get to see a Reb-Bellied!
One of my favorites! I took this at my feeder! A red-bellied woodpecker.
Inevitably pangs of panic and guilt find their way to my consciousness, “What am I doing??” “You are wasting time!” To get lost in Birdville felt wrong. But was it? Putting down “work” for a moment of stillness may be the way to abundance. It may be the way to God.
A timely observation from the Gospel of Luke
I have been lingering in the Gospel of Luke these days. If I don’t skim or skip around, I notice details that otherwise go ignored. In these readings, over these weeks, one sentence lodged in me.
For context, the disciples dragged themselves to shore after a long night working on the boat. Exhausted, they fold their empty nets. No supply of fish, no batch for the market. Unproductive. Bone weary.
After Jesus climbs into the boat and teaches a mini-lesson he turns to the disappointed fishermen:
“Throw your nets out.”
Simon Peter pushes back, “We’ve toiled all night and got nothing…”
Nothing.
Toiling, with nothing to show for it. Unproductive. A total waste. That’s how that long night went. Not to mention, they were about to collapse from exhaustion.
Let me clarify. We are made to work, that’s not the point. Before the serpent slinked up to Eve luring her into his master trickery, before rebellion and independence spoiled everything, God made Adam, put him among the trees, birds, and rivers, and had him work. He tended to the land and named the animals. Work is not the same toiling. Toiling is altogether different. Day in and day out we fall prey to toiling: living without a greater vision, spinning to survive, forgetting the source. Jesus wanted to give them a word picture. This one, they wouldn’t miss.
(You may or may not know this story in Luke 5, and it is worth reading and rereading over a few mornings this week. The details will surface.)
Though Peter explains his despondency, he says more, “BUT at your word, I will let down the nets.”
Luke 5:6-7
“When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them, and they came and filled both boats so full that they began to sink.”
The water stirs and splashes. Thousands of fish flip and flop. The netting stretches to the point of breaking, and the guys cannot manage the load. Two boats try to handle the heap but the massive catch is so overwhelming that the boats begin to sink.
We can read these stories over and over from youth until our hair turns gray, and we will still discover more. There are many salient points to this story, but one got my attention:
Our toiling will make us weary, but it has potential to spin us back to the Creator.
Psalm 46:10 says, “Cease striving and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted on the earth.”
Our toiling may reveal something, we have forgotten God. It’s another lie from the slinking serpent, “It’s all up to you, Dawn. There is no one else, no one at the helm, no one to depend on. You are on your own…toil away.”
In this remarkable scene, Jesus establishes himself as an authority. “Go throw your nets in again.” And Peter responds to his authority, “At your word…”
Again, Jesus makes his authority known, “Don’t be afraid, from now on, you will be catching men.” Jesus names their mission, and he has made it clear: HE is the source. No toiling, just depending. The bursting nets highlight his point.
There is an authority, THE Source of all things. There is a Creator, and we are not him. There is ONE sustainer of all things, and it is not me.
This miracle was bold and big, but more often, God reveals himself in common, subtle ways. If we pay attention to the days and hours of our lives, the interruptions, routines, unexpected events, conversations, and derailed plans there are messages to decode.
When I observe the birds…I see firsthand the glory of God’s creation.
“Cease striving even for a few minutes, Dawn, and know that I am God…”
There is a God behind this design, and when I’m immersed in it, I experience Him. I am reminded, that I, too, am his creation, and he is my source. My friends, God is incarnational. His entire creation embodies him. He can be located in the oak tree, at a meal with friends, in the great wide sea in front of you as you tan in your chair on vacation, he speaks through the seeds finally sprouting in the soil, and yes, through the birds that visit your feeder. Only when we cease striving and stop all the toiling will we SEE and KNOW that He is God.
We toil. We break our backs. We work long hours. We exhaust our strength. Meanwhile, the compass of our lives spins into disorder. But God’s mercy leads the way, not condemnation. What Jesus doesn’t say in this account, “Shame on you for not trusting me!” is as important as what he does say, “Do not be afraid.”
Jesus wants to bring us to the end of our toiling so that we can embody true sabbath rest. We are far too comfortable trusting our limited efforts. And the lie lingers, “It’s all up to you…”
We work so often without stopping for a moment to center on him.
“Cease striving, and know that I am God.”
Today, wander outside and let the towering maple, dancing starlings, wide open sky, and the cool soil under your feet remind you that there is a Creator who is carrying the load. He is the source. And he has a far bigger vision for our lives than our daily catalog of demands.
May this be our prayer as we begin our day, seeking our Source:
Yes, my soul, find rest in God;
my hope comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation;
he is my fortress, I will not be shaken.
My salvation and my honor depend on God;
he is my mighty rock, my refuge.
Trust in him at all times, you people;
pour out your hearts to him,
for God is our refuge (Psalm 62:5-8)