I will be upfront with saying that sometimes I struggle to say no. If I can technically do something for someone— if I have the time or the money or the ability, I feel like it is necessary to say yes, regardless of how I actually feel about it. My response so often is driven by the need, not by what I have to offer, or what I discern to be a wise choice. It is easy in the face of so much genuine need to feel responsible for meeting as much of that need as possible. But I am learning to be more nuanced and careful in how I approach this.
I love how the gospel of Mark tackles this tension right away, in the very first chapter, right at the beginning of Mark’s narrative of Jesus’ ministry. In chapter one (verses 35-39 if you want to check it out), Jesus goes away to pray in the early morning hours. His disciples come to find him and say “everyone is looking for you!” And wildly, Jesus’ response is to leave town! This is so counterintuitive to me and to most of the ministry settings I have been in. I find that it is generally assumed that if everyone is looking for you, you’re doing something right. You’re needed here! There is work to be done! That must mean that it is my work to do. Your skill set is seen and valued! You are recognized for how you might be able to address what’s happening! It must mean that I am in some way responsible for meeting all of these needs.
But instead, Jesus leaves. Picture that for a minute. A whole community is clamoring for teaching and healing, and Jesus walks away to preach and heal elsewhere. He has somehow in his early morning prayer discerned that meeting those genuine and important needs in this community is not his job right now. But I wonder how that community viewed him leaving. I wonder what his disciples thought. They didn’t know him all that well at this point, and here this guy is just leaving town when there is so much good work to be done.
I am sometimes so afraid to be the person who sees the need, knows it’s not my work to do, and walks away. I even fear this in relationships where I am deeply known and loved! Even if I have discerned within myself that this is not my work to do, that I need to hold a boundary, create space to rest, or work on something different, I fear what will happen if I let a need go unmet (or at least unmet by me). I think there is an element of hubris here, in addition to empathy and compassion. I sometimes assume that if I am not meeting a given need, the need is going unmet. But what if I were to cultivate my trust in God enough to believe that maybe it’s someone else’s work to do? If even Jesus didn’t need to personally help every last person who asked, why do I often think that I do?
I do believe that we are called to serve our communities using our gifts, and sometimes in ways that are difficult or sacrificial. But I think it is dangerous and unhelpful to stay locked in that modality, to dwell in a posture of giving every last drop of our time and energy without stopping to consider that maybe it is not our work to do. God calls us to be faithful with what we have to offer, but I don’t think that God asks us to consistently give more than we have to give. To be clear, I think this is different than thinking that life isn’t sometimes more than we can handle. Sometimes life is very much is more than we can take, and more than our resources allow for. But I think we should think differently about the day to day rhythms of our lives, especially the parts we are able to choose. In our daily work and rhythms, we should ideally not be operating in emergency mode all the time, and if we are, I think that bears some examination. What work might be in our lives that feels necessary, but actually isn’t? What might we actually be invited to let go of, even if it’s just for a moment or a season?
To return to Jesus in the book of Mark, I find it so counterintuitive and compelling to see not just that Jesus leaves, but also how. Mark doesn’t tell us that Jesus apologizes profusely and feels guilty for leaving work undone. Mark doesn’t tell us that Jesus explains himself much at all. As far as we can tell, he simply stands firmly and securely in his discernment and moves on. I think that is such a freeing but also terrifying thing to consider. Granted, discerning these things with the clarity that Jesus seems to have is no easy task, but I deeply appreciate that Jesus is modeling what it looks like to be willing to disappoint the people around him in order to stay within the work he feels called to do, and to maintain boundaries and rhythms of rest and prayer. This gives us permission to reexamine the rhythms that don’t seem to let us say no.
It feels tempting to try to resolve this neatly, to create a model for what exactly to say no to and how, but I think that we can actually benefit from sitting with any tension this might create within us for a while. There are no straightforward or simple answers, but we can sit in the presence of Jesus, who is willing to say no, to leave town, when he discerns that it is time? What does it feel like to watch Jesus walk away? What emotions come up for you? What would you like to ask Jesus in this moment? If you consider leaving something undone or a need unmet, how do you feel? Can you invite God into your own discernment around when to say no?
Wellspring 