Beyond the Graspiness of Daily Life

"He did not regard equality with God as something to grasp, but he gave everything of himself away and took the form of a slave."

Today is my last day in the office. I will be giving my office to a colleague for a few months while WTS completes the construction. I felt the need to make shelf space for my colleague before she arrives. I spent a few days boxing up personal belongings and a few shelves of books. With each book boxed and each note filed, I felt a growing release from the tasks in front of me and a calling to the work ahead, namely recollecting, walking, and writing. 

Paul’s words concerning Jesus were an invitation to me, “Let the same mind be in you as in Christ Jesus…. He did not regard equality with God as something to grasp, but he gave himself away and took the form of a slave.” I desire this mind and this practice. 

The angels are saying, "Let go and breathe. Do not grasp at the world you are walking away from. Release your hands, and receive each step as the first.” 

I am a grasp-y lug. I grasp at privilege, knowledge, opportunity, authority, and probably more things I fail to be aware of. I’m sure I am alone in this. Most of the world enters with open hands and available hearts, right? I hate when I am grasp-y. Even when I try to serve, I can sense a grasping for recognition and affirmation. Being capacious with one’s hands, not to mention one’s thoughts and words is painfully difficult. But I keep hearing the invitation to release the grasp I try to have on my worlds. The invitation is in Scripture, in preparing for the Camino, in relating to my children and colleagues, and in the idea of a sabbatical. The invitation seems to be everywhere these days. I wonder how long I have been ignoring the invitation. I have yet to learn to unclench my hands and open my life to the world. 

The other day I hiked a dune. Step-after-step I wanted to grasp a tree branch. I wanted to grasp something to help me climb the dune. The difficulty was that I already had two walking poles strapped to my wrists. The poles were intended as my help and comfort. They were enough, but I failed to trust them. Each step, I would anxiously drop the pole and grasp for a tree. The pole strap was still attached to my wrist. It would prop itself in the sand and get stuck in the dune. I would become unbalanced trying to take a step with a twig in one hand and a pole pivoting me in the opposite direction. I was an awkward spider failing to maneuver the dune. My backpack was shifting as I walked off-balance. Sweat was pouring down my back. I wanted a reprieve from the dune; instead, the dune mocked me.

Graspy is unproductive behavior. 

Halfway to the top of the dune, I stopped. I began laughing out loud. I was alone in the woods laughing. What a buffoon. It became clear to me. I am always looking beyond the resources already connected to me for help. All I needed was already connected. I took the next steps with the poles as my help. I let creation stand before me and maneuvered around trees instead of grasping toward them. I kept my focus on the required course and began to ascend with less effort. My body aligned with my pack; my breath stabilized. 

I made it to the top of the dune and stood amidst the dune grass to catch my breath. The view was glorious, and the wind was refreshing.

I am slowly letting go. I left the office this morning and said goodbye to my colleagues. It was rather unextraordinary, but the goodbye was significant. It is temporary but important. I feel confident in letting the work go to others. I feel afraid for the weeks and months ahead, yet I look forward to walking step-by-step in hopes that my hands will be more open to receiving those gifts that stand right before me - not looking to the left or right for what is not already available. I know I am leaving to come back, and when I return I pray that I Philippians 2 finds a home in me and with my colleagues.