The Land of Overwhelm

Recently my car driver assist system stopped. I was driving through a freeway construction zone: there were no line markings, it was drizzling rain, the lighting was poor, and the traffic was heavy. I had a momentary sense of panic – I do rely on these driver tools – and I arrived at my destination. To my relief, when I turned the car on later, the system resumed. Even the car electronics had a moment of overwhelm, I thought.

And it felt like a life metaphor! Sometimes, the familiar markers that guide us – routines, relationships, stability – disappear or shift. Illness, loss, or grief can rewrite the landscape of our days, leaving us uncertain about our next steps. Perhaps a new house or job brings its own confusion and doubt, as we wonder if we’ve made the right choice. Dreams may crumble, and we find ourselves adrift. The heaviness of loss might shadow our mornings, even as each dawn arrives. And perhaps there are days when we wake, feeling the weight of just too much to do, too much bad news and too little energy to respond. These are the days of the overwhelm. But what to do? How are we to be? Because no-one, even the most faithful amongst us, is immune from periods of desolation.

In the spiritual tradition desolation describes times when we feel distant from God. We may be finding it hard to pray and to lose sight of where God is working in our lives. We may have a deep sense of hopelessness and while this can hold a different meaning to the spiritual desolation we may sometimes experience on the highway of life, they can be intertwined.

There is no quick reset button for these times but there are some tools that might help. The late Pope Francis, for example, in A Good Life draws upon the inspiration of Mary and observes that even though she too had her own struggles she had God as ‘the first greatness of her life’. I am struck by the beauty of this description of Mary’s orientation to God. We may ponder with Mary the ‘first greatness’ of our lives.

We may draw on the experience of our biblical ancestors who had their own moments of heaviness. This weekend we recall that the great prophet Jeremiah is thrown into a well – his message about the kingdom of God was so unpalatable to the community. Those of us who have days of overwhelm know what it feels like at the bottom of the well. It is from here that we join with the psalmist with cries of ‘Lord, come to my aid!’ (Ps 40). The letter to the Hebrews reminds us to keep our eyes fixed on Jesus with the Sunday’s gospel revealing to us an uncompromising Jesus. Images of fire, baptism, anguish and division rise from the text. We hear the heartfelt cry for renewal. We sense the impatience of the missionary heart of Jesus raising us from our lethargy, reminding us perhaps to refocus.

When the bleakness of life becomes too much Fr James Martin SJ offers this advice:

Our personal problems can build to the point that we have a hard time falling asleep at night, or eating, or even getting out of bed. The bleakness of our world, and of our churches, can cause people to lose hope. When things seem overwhelming or I’m close to despairing, it’s always good to pray for hope. (Learning to Pray, p. 114)

So, for those of us in the land of overwhelm in this holy year of hope:

May our hearts be at peace
May the small still voice of calm emerge from any bleakness
May the quiet confidence that the First Greatness of our lives is with us calm our every fear.
May we be brave in our life and living as followers of Jesus, people of the living God.
Amen.

By Cathy Jenkins