Take These Hands and How to Avoid Sour Milk
“Take these hands, teach them what to carry.”
One of the most contradictory pieces of advice I’ve been given is around how to spend my time. Books on how to perfect your habits so you can maximize your time and special timers to keep you productive are running through my social media feed. But so are memes and reels and books that speak to hustle culture. Slow down. Hurry up. Remember the monks. Join a gym. Take your time. Give it all you’ve got but stop striving. Which one is it? Both? But when this? And when that?
As a church member for decades I have excised more guilt than I care to think about over wasted time. Feeling shame for the sloth days but also pride for the productive ones. Then shame for the pride. Sigh. When I come to the end of myself in these moments I have often stolen a refrain from U2 and their beautiful song Yahweh: “Take these hands and teach them what to carry.” So simple but when I sing it with Bono I feel like I am breathing a transcendent prayer. What do I carry?
I recently heard a pastor give a wonderful analogy for this prayer that continues to resonate. He likened us trying to carry the weight of the world to a toddler getting milk from the fridge. If a toddler tried to pull a gallon of milk out of the fridge to pour a little cup of milk, we would jump to attention and assist the wee child. The disaster that would ensue if the child poured the milk from a full jug makes us wince. But once the cup has been poured by an adult they could then manageably enjoy the milk.
So often this is our interaction with God. We are hefting about unwieldy tasks that have become overwhelming and burdensome while He is waiting for us to notice His willing hands to do the heavy lifting. His burden is light, remember? Like a little cup of milk rather than a crushing weight. It is a reminder that He is a kind and good Father; not capricious nor wishing to set us up for failure.
Another negative byproduct of teetering under the weight of the jug of milk is that we not only hurt ourselves through burnout, but we do damage to others as it leads to panic promising. We overpromise and under deliver. We extend ourselves in an effort to look like Good Christians and try to meet everyone’s needs but end up unable to fulfill the demands, disappointing and communicating a lack of care and love. Splashing milk around and leaving it to sour on the floor.
It is at this point that I turn to our Savior. I have been doing a very slow read of the Gospels. As in, it has been 3 months and I am in Luke chapter 13. Slow and steady. Sitting in the dirt and watching the happenings. Although we know better, watching Jesus operate, it often looks like He didn’t have a plan. It looks like He starts the day by just moving slowly through the world. Walking until He is interrupted. It might be a question from a fiery group of Pharisees, an invitation to dinner with a sordid group of locals, or a plea for healing. He might see someone who needs a moment with Him that will change them forever like Zaccheaus or the Woman at the well. Of course He would have been surprised at nothing. He is not a mere mortal like us but I think the example He sets is worthy of attention.
To enter the day with the mindset that things may not go according to plan, being prepared to be surprised. (credit to a favorite movie, Dan in Real Life) Essentially, being interruptible. Perhaps it means leaving a healthy margin in our day for the unexpected or allotting more time for a task than you would normally budget so that not every task is being blown through.
As someone known for my slapdash tendencies, I have been really seeking opportunities to practice these slow and intentional moments. This summer when I knew that my oldest daughter was coming to visit from out of town, I decided I would make a blackberry pie. And I wanted to enjoy the process. That may sound obvious but as someone who can roar through a day checking off tasks, this was a distinct decision that I had to remind myself of several times throughout the day. I woke up early to start my hunt for wild blackberries about town. It was the end of the season so the picking was slow. Good. Slow. Go slow and think about my daughter. Think about the fact that she lives far away and that blackberries don’t grow where she lives. Pray for her. Pray that she grows roots where she lives and works. Pray that she feels loved and seen.
I came home and made the pie dough from scratch. Again, an obvious next step. But I hate making dough because it demands slow and deliberate attention. Breathe. Read the recipe. Think about my daughter and read the recipe again. Follow every step without guessing at the measurements. Go slower and think about the times I made pies with her. She has always been good at the slow and tedious. I wanted to give that back to her.
I found myself in a quiet and meditative rhythm as I made the pie crust. I don’t know if my family ended up feeling the love in the pie but I felt my love for them as I made it and when I think of that day I still do. Not only my love for them but also the kind, careful, and deliberate love the Father has lavished on me.
Ultimately, I have decided that the answer to the warring messages of Hurry Up Culture and Slow Down Mindset is between you and you and God. What do you need? Are there moments of mindnumbing scrolling when you really need to get stuff done? Or are you in a mad dash to appear impressively productive? Can you only rest well at night when you have ticked off a tyrannical to-do list? I see myself in both but, more often it is the word SLOW that breaks into my mind. This is closely related to the Holy Spirit saying, “this is a jug you weren’t meant to carry.” The two messages seem to be very close cousins. Slow down and let me carry that.
I spoke with someone close to me who is walking through a complicated, painful, beautiful, confusing, life changing path. The conversation was rich and hard and deep and encouraging and good. But afterwards I felt heartbroken. Just so sad and heavy. I wanted to climb into a dark closet and cry. I couldn’t understand what to do with these emotions. How can I be productive and helpful for my friend? I finally prayed and immediately I heard the words in my head: You’re trying to carry the jug. Only I can heal this person and meet their needs.
So I pray for the glass of milk and take a breath. Reminding myself that I don’t help anyone when I get into panic, jug hoisting mode. When I ask for the little glass of milk I find that it is filled with a sweet love for the other. I am more inclined to think about them. Pray for them. There is room to find creative ways to bless and bring encouragement which looks decidedly different than brainstorming ideas that end up only exalting myself.
The question is not, afterall, how do I spend my time most effectively but what am I carrying? Frantically, slap dashedly, seeking to impress and conquer? Or calmly, slowly, with observation and intention? Carefully moving about with the little cup of milk may not yield the impressive results but it will likely allow you to see the gracious, kind, and abundant hand of Jesus.
