Tales of the Restoration Part III: How to Avoid Handyman Syndrome

I am part of the microwave generation. I am not very patient. When I am hungry, I want my meals hot, tasty and now. When I am hit with a problem, I want it banished immediately. I don't usually panic. Rather, I scheme. When a relational crisis erupts, I leap into handyman mode. I analyze the problem and how it can be fixed quickly. I grab whatever tools are within my grasp and begin banging around with my wrench and duct tape. There are many flaws in this approach. I am sloppy. I have no idea what I am doing. And, I serve as my own strategist, army, and clean up crew. I act like I am on my own. 

The master of the universe loves me. He is listens to me and yet, I act like I have to do it myself?  This is silly.  It is more than silly.  It is stupid. 

I need to react more like a body reacts. When I stub my toe, does it immediately run off by itself for a splint and some ibuprofen? No, of course not! How would a disembodied toe take pain medication? It sends a distress signal to the head in the form of pain. I guess pain is a form of prayer, a cry for help.  

I Corinthians 12 compares Christians to a body. Christ is the head and each of us is a small but vital part of the body. When crisis hits, the best thing to do is to slow down, remember that I am connected to the rest of the body, and send a pain signal to the head. The thing to do is pray.  

Nehemiah was hit with a crisis. Instead of leaping into action, he leaped into intense prayer. He prayed for four months. He didn't do anything to fix the crisis in all that time. He didn't even allow himself to look sad at work. 

The bigger the crisis, the more I need to resist the urge to scheme. Instead, I need to throw my energy into praying and waiting. Often I need to pray and refrain from all forms of the handyman syndrome. I might be called to do nothing at all, except pray for months. In the process, I remember that I am not alone. I am not created to be Atlas, trying to hold the world on my shoulders. Praying reminds me that it is God, and not me, who holds all things together.