One of my regular spiritual practices is to set a small intention for the day. The intention might grow out of a recent devotion, a story or an idea shared by a friend, or a need that I have perceived. Rather than let my burgeoning to-do lists for work and home be the touchstone for the day, I constantly recall my intention -- a word, a phrase, a theme, a hope.
In this way, I try to frame my day as what it truly is: God’s day.
A few weeks ago, I set a simple intention for my busy Wednesday: “Celebrate life and help others.” I arrived at work eager to keep that intention at the forefront of my day, as I went about ticking items off my to-do list. What I discovered, once again, is that God has a great sense of humor.
From the get-go, I found myself that day being helped by others. A colleague helped me find an easier process for doing a piece of my work; an 800-number operator patiently helped me navigate a frustrating online task; the lunch guy offered to put all of my items in a better bag; a stranger in the parking garage waited at least 10 seconds to hold the door for me. And when I got home, my daughter surprised me with a fully prepared dinner.
Early in the day, I recognized what was happening to me and kept trying to reverse the flow. But poised as I was with the intention to “celebrate life and help others,” I was instead led to celebrate life by accepting the help of others.
As Christian leaders, we are formed to be in control, to provide the help, to be in the driver’s seat, to work the extra hours, day or night. Even my spiritual intention involved my taking charge of the day, as I looked for others I could assist.
But accepting help teaches valuable lessons.
Just look to the prophets in the Old Testament: An angel helps Elijah when he flees the wrath of Jezebel, offering him nourishing cake and a jar of water. “Arise and eat,” the angel urges in a second visit, “else the journey will be too great for you” (1 Kings 19:7 RSV). Strengthened for his tasks by the angel’s help, Elijah “went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb the mount of God” (19:8).
When the two spies from Joshua sent to scout out Jericho are threatened by the king, the prostitute Rahab hides them on her roof under stalks of flax. She lies for them, saying to their pursuers, “True, men came to me, but I did not know where they came from; and when the gate was to be closed, at dark, the men went out” (Joshua 2:4-5). She lets them down by a rope through the window and instructs them to hide in the hills for three days. Thanks to Rahab’s life-saving help, the two spies are able to say to Joshua, “Truly the Lord has given all the land into our hands” (2:24).
Both Elijah and Joshua are able to do God’s work because they receive help in unexpected places.
Alda is a dear 95-year-old Baptist woman in my parents’ retirement community who can barely walk. Yet almost every afternoon, she arrives at the memory care unit, where my mother resides, to offer beautiful manicures to the female Alzheimer’s residents, many of whom have no idea Alda is even there with them. The residents may not be able to talk or move, to wear their own clothes or even to stay awake, but thanks to Alda, all the women in memory care always have lovely pink, red or peach nail polish on their newly trimmed nails.
I keep looking for a way to repay Alda for her manicure ministry with my mother. Wash her car? Weed her garden? Buy her groceries? But she refuses all offers of help. Helping others, I’ve realized, keeps Alda alive. If she starts to accept help, it will mean to her that she has become helpless, and she will simply die.
I understand where Alda is coming from.
Yet as Christian leaders, we must make accepting help something that doesn’t threaten our existence but rather is an integral part of what we do in the kingdom.
When we accept the help of others, we release their God-given gifts and enable them to become more fully who they are. When we accept help, we share our vulnerabilities, model how we solve problems, and strengthen community and the body of Christ. When we accept help, we open a space into which serendipity and grace can enter, and in which institutions can grow stronger. When we accept help, we use the collective gifts of the institution to work together for the collective good.
