I’ve been feeling uncomfortable with myself lately because I am too comfortable. When people were going back to work and businesses were reopening, I stopped thinking about the pandemic everyday. I had adjusted to my new normal. I work from home five days a week in my quiet little corner office. My husband and I have been able to hike or run outside and enjoy the peacefulness and beauty of nature. I’ve even been able to go back to church wearing a mask.
Outside my bubble, people are still getting sick, people are still dying, people are still unemployed, people are still struggling financially. Doctors and nurses are still working really hard and risking their own health to save lives. Teachers and parents are worried about the safety of returning to school. People are still denying the deadliness of this disease and resisting efforts to slow the spread of the virus.
Also outside my bubble, there have been racial protests across the country and ongoing discussions of the uncomfortable reality of systemic racism and injustice. I read about white fragility to better understand how and why whites deny and perpetuate racism. I admit that I am privileged by my whiteness. That makes me uncomfortable. It is also uncomfortable to admit that I have been ignorant about the suffering and struggles of people of color. I have a heart for justice and would like to make a difference. But how? For me, it starts with facing the discomfort of the complicity of silence.
While I grapple with my feelings of discomfort, my church has been studying the life of Moses. One week, the pastor spoke about all the excuses Moses made about why he was not the right person to speak to Pharaoh. Who am I that you would send me? What will I tell them if they ask me ‘what is his name?’ What if they don’t believe me and won’t listen? But I’ve never been eloquent. I am slow of speech and tongue.
I am inspired by Moses because I can relate to his reluctance to speak. As an introvert, I am also slow of speech and tongue. It takes too long to formulate my thoughts into words. I worry about how people will respond to me. Will they even listen? Speaking out about uncomfortable topics takes courage. Speaking out means I have to get out of my comfort zone.
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.Joshua 1:9
As much as I dislike being uncomfortable, I pray for discomfort. I want my heart to break for the things that break the heart of Jesus.
I have struggled to find the words to express what I’ve been feeling. A few weeks ago, I saw an unattributed prayer on Facebook that was called a Franciscan blessing. A blogger said that this prayer was written by a nun, Sister Ruth Marlene Fox. Her words beautifully express my internal struggle and reframe the struggle as a blessing.
A Non-traditional Blessing
May God bless you with a restless discomfort
about easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships, so that you may seek truth boldly and love deep within your heart.
May God bless you with holy anger
at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that you may tirelessly work for justice, freedom, and peace among all people.
May God bless you with the gift of tears
to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, or the loss of all that they cherish, so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and transform their pain into joy.
May God bless you with enough foolishness
to believe that you really can make a difference in this world, so that you are able, with God’s grace, to do what others claim cannot be done.
I have been blessed with a restless discomfort. I want to seek truth boldly and to love others deeply even if it is painful. I want to work for justice and equality for those who have been oppressed and exploited. I want to comfort those who suffer and to transform their pain into hope and joy. And yes, it may seem foolish to think that my words can make a difference in this world, but with God’s grace and guidance, they can.