I asked Hope what I should write about. She thought about it for awhile.
“It’s not my job,” she said finally, just as I was hoping she was going to give me an answer. I mean, one that I could use.
She’s willing to talk with me. In fact, we had just eaten supper together. She’s happy to give me advice when I ask which shirt works. She vacuumed the other day, fixed supper for the three of us (Nancy, Hope and I) Monday evening. So it’s not that she’s not helpful.
But she’s right. It’s not her job to write this post. It’s mine.
Paul was writing to some friends in the Turkish region of Galatia. He wrote, “bear each other’s burdens.” And a couple sentences later, he said “for each one will bear his own load.” It’s a great time to say, “Was Paul confused” or “He’s inconsistent” or “How do I know what to do?”
I understand the confusion. I start to think about whether there are difference words used here in the original Greek. I start to look for reasons to explain the inconsistency. Until I go for a ride with Hope and realize that there are things that I have to do and things that you can help me with, things that I am responsible to do as well as I possibly can and things that I cannot make it through alone.
I have to work hard on my stuff. I have to look hard to see where I can help you with your stuff.
I can’t make pizzas. But I can encourage Hope as she does. I have to write (though she is very competent to write as well). And she can keep my honest.
Your job isn’t mine. But I’ll look for ways to help.
Just as Hope did with this post.