What Should I Do Today?
Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash
In the days of pandemic, making a To Do list provides a new challenge. When I’m not leaving the house and building my schedule around appointments, I find one hour melting into the next.
As I’ve struggled with this, an old story jumped up in my mind, one from back in the elementary homeschool days.
Reading aloud was one of my favorite activities as a homeschool mom—especially books about people I’d never heard of before. One year, studying the founding and colonization of America, we discovered an old book in the library— John Eliot: The Man Who Loved Indians, by Carleton Beals. I’d never heard of John Eliot. It is one of those lovely old out-of-print treasures that, like all treasure, is worth searching out.
John Eliot, an early Puritan settler in the newly formed town of Boston, was not only a missionary to the Massachusetts Indians, he translated the Bible into Algonquian. He first created the written version of the language, which has more syllables and vowels than anything I’ve ever seen. He poured his heart and soul into the work he felt the Lord called him to accomplish. His piety, diligence, and genuine love became famous.
In this biography, a famous interchange was recorded, and that is the memory that popped up in my mind. To set the scene, Margaret Winthrop, a woman of standing in the community, is conversing with John Eliot as he pulls weeds in his garden. Eventually their talk turns to discussing heaven.
Margaret comments, "John, you always tell me to look up to heaven, but there you are pulling weeds."
John replies, "Heaven is found by doing what needs to be done well and with a clear conscience. If I knew I were to be called to heaven tomorrow, I would do exactly what I'm doing today."
That sentence stopped me short when I first read it. And it still does.
How am I living? And if I knew I were to be called home tomorrow, would I change anything? What would I do differently?
In these days of Covid-19, failing hospitals, and a plummeting economy, those questions take on more meaning. I can’t affect the axis-tilting problems that rock our world.
But I can pull weeds.
I’m easily able to become overwhelmed with current events.
Watching the news makes my heart heavy.
Meditating on the future economy breads concern.
In response, and possibly desperation, I meditate on the verse in Matthew 6:34:
So then, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Today has enough trouble of its own.
I have found the above verse to be the antidote to worry. I can’t fix all/any of the problems, but I can ask, "Okay Lord, exactly which of these things would you like for me to worry about today?"
Many times I am surprised at what the Lord directs my heart toward. Maybe what seems so important to me is not so important to my Lord after all. I am freed from worrying about the future when I only concentrate on today’s problems.
Maybe "weed pulling" is the most consecrated, kingdom-building, Christ-honoring activity there is for me to do today.
I can’t cure disease, but I can plant a tomato.
I can’t help business recover, but I can pull weeds.
I can’t undo all the harm of Covid-19, but I can plant eternal seeds and study the Bread of Life and give the love of Jesus generously to those around me.
My days are spent sheltering at home, but that leads me to my favorite theologian and most convicting critic: Oswald Chambers:
"it does require the supernatural grace of God to live twenty-four hours in every day as a saint, to go through drudgery as a disciple, to live an ordinary, unobserved, ignored existence as a disciple of Jesus. It is inbred in us that we have to do exceptional things for God; but we have not. We have to be exceptional in the ordinary things.
As John Eliot said, "Heaven is found by doing what needs to be done well and with a clear conscience. If I knew I were to be called to heaven tomorrow, I would do exactly what I'm doing today."
How are you spending your days?
Leave some ideas below. Let’s help each other live fruitful lives during these difficult times.