20. Eutycus
Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away
Safe in my arms
You’re only sleeping.
Into the West: Annie Lennox
In a Radio interview Kanye West referenced the words of C.S.Lewis. He said something along these lines: it was once said that the greatest task of the enemy is to make you think he doesn’t exist. I (Kanye) think the greatest task of the enemy today is to make you think you don’t exist.
It feels like today has lasted a little too long. A 27-year-old girl called Elizabeth wrote the book Prozac Nation over 25 years ago. She asked:
Why does the rest of the world put up with the hypocrisy, the need to put a happy face on sorrow, the need to keep on keeping on?… I don’t know the answer, I know only that I can’t. I don’t want any more vicissitudes, I don’t want any more of this try, try again stuff. I just want out. I’ve had it. I am so tired. I am twenty and I am already exhausted.
Elizabeth Wurtzel
25 years later her questions are repeated on the lips of so many people. She existed and she was tired. The weariness is a companion to the lie. The lie that you could breathe out your last tired breath. Disappear. And it wouldn’t really matter. I have so many young friends wrestling daily with bodies that are chronically sick. They wrestle with an all-consuming weariness. And it’s a lonely wrestle. Friends will carry you to Jesus, dismantle a roof and cause a scene for you once or twice. But carry, disrupt, return, repeat, gets tired and tiring. There’s an old philosophical question: if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If you fall in your home, and no one is around, you begin to wonder if your pain matters. If you even exist at all. It is written not a sparrow falls without Him noticing. (Matthew 10:29) Does anyone want to bird watch with Jesus?
I always think of Eutycus as a little bird. A young boy sitting on the windowsill in Acts ch 20. He was perched at the edge of those gathered, the place where the young and the weary like to position themselves.
On the first day of the week we came together to break bread. Paul spoke to the people and, because he intended to leave the next day, kept on talking until midnight. There were many lamps in the upstairs room where we were meeting. Seated in a window was a young man named Eutychus, who was sinking into a deep sleep as Paul talked on and on. When he was sound asleep, he fell to the ground from the third story and was picked up dead. Paul went down, threw himself on the young man and put his arms around him. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “He’s alive!” Then he went upstairs again and broke bread and ate. After talking until daylight, he left. The people took the young man home alive and were greatly comforted. Acts 20:7-12
I imagine the room in Troas. A sitting room on the third floor, big enough for a bunch of people to gather in, packed with those who wanted to hear this persecutor-turned-preacher. I don’t think it was just his words that drew them. By his own admission Paul wasn’t particularly eloquent. There must have been more he carried within him to draw a crowd and keep them long into the night. It is written: “there were many lights (lamps) in the upstairs room” and this intrigues me. We’ve already been told it was nearly midnight. It would be a given that light was required. So were they lamps or lights? I’m wondering because I remember a precious time of music and waiting years ago. My husband was singing a psalm he had set to music. The space we gathered in was dark, lit only by fairy lights, and all of a sudden there were orbs of light dancing around like giant specks of dust on a lens. It was holy and magical. Heaven joining our song. The Celtic believers spoke about thin spaces where heaven and earth kiss. I imagine that’s what was happening in the house in Troas. Paul talking and talking, lights dancing, heaven joining the gathering. A thin space.
Eutycus was listening. He was weary in a thin space. At some point he fell asleep and fell out the window hitting the ground three stories below. It is said he was picked up dead. I wonder if a passer-by came across the body of the boy before those he was fellowshipping with even noticed. When the alarm was raised Paul ran down, threw his arms around the boy, and pronounced him alive. Paul’s embrace brought life back to the physical body of the weary edge-dweller.
I’m wondering why my imagination was drawn to the story of Eutycus as I’m pondering bodies and pain. I know that in every era and in every place there have been multiple threats to life. Everywhere you look there is evidence of the fragility of our existence. Today it seems to me that there are many strange illnesses and threats to life that neither kill us nor let us live . And yet God is with us. As I engage with the story I am reminded that being in a thin place, in the presence of the supernatural, doesn’t mean nothing bad happens. It just means that everything good can still happen.
Even youths grow weary, old men stumble
But those who wait….
Isaiah 40:30
For those that are weary, burned out on living, Jesus promises rest. In Matthew 11:29 Jesus invites us to “get away with him”. One-on-one. I think it’s time to reimagine what that kind of rest can actually do for our spirit, for our soul, and for our bodies. And what we can then do in this generation. Paul embraced Eutycus and that embrace brought life back to his body. There’s something about a good embrace that is life-giving, but I’ve not yet hugged a life-less body back into existence. I notice after the embrace Paul broke bread and ate. His body was hungry, and he tended to it. He began the tending by breaking bread and drawing the attention of those watching, and us reading, to Jesus who said “this is my body, given for you.” Jesus had a body that died and was made new. As we eat the bread and drink the wine we ingest his journey through death to life and from life to a transfigured body. Paul knew this meal in its fullness. I don’t know it fully yet, but it’s resurrection stuff, and I believe there is a deeper knowing coming. Jesus has heard the cry of the weary and body exhausted.
I really want to know the power of the resurrection. I feel a holy frustration growing in me, like a child on a car journey I want to know now when I’ll arrive. I’m reminded that children wait like that because they know good things are coming and they are impatient to experience them. They wait like that, if they have good caregivers, and haven’t learned to wonder whether they exist. I long to know this. To offer this embrace that brings life. Weariness is not the inheritance He planned for us.
In the waiting and the learning I don’t want to forget to bird watch with the 3God. The Lover who calls to us all in our isolation reminding that we exist, and we exist in Him. We exist in flesh and bone and livers and stomachs and they are designed to mend and renew in ways we have yet to discover. The Lover walked a journey from death to life and life to a transfigured body. As we journey with him he says:
Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me, and I in him. John 6:54
I am longing to eat, drink, and discover what Paul knew. What it was that meant the life flowing in him could waken another, resurrecting a dead body. To drink literally means imbibe, which means to absorb by drinking. It also means to absorb in our mind and our senses. As Jesus’ blood, his body, is absorbed throughout our whole being we begin to remain in him. No more drifting in and out. His life in us and through us. We are created for more than health, more than just existence. I want back all that is being stolen. All of it. It’s an adventure for today that will break the weariness we have imbibed. It’s an inheritance for the little birds. They are seen. Whatever edge they are perched on. Everything good can still happen.
What can you see on the horizon?
Why do white gulls call?
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home.
Into the West: Annie Lennox
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