CREEDE HINSHAW: It’s best just to let some burdens go

I go to the gym a couple of times per week to try to stabilize this scrawny 75-year-old body. There’s always hope I’ll be able to at least maintain this aging frame.

As most gym-goers know, some of the joy of the gym is the conversations that occur. The socialization aspect of a workout probably is as important as the weights and stretches themselves.

Last week, while preparing to do my repetitions on the high pulley machine with a pathetically light load, I was interrupted by a pleasant man I see only at the gym. He made a beeline in my direction, and I knew I was in for a long talk. Because he knows I am a retired Methodist preacher, most of his conversations with me involve (at his initiative) the Bible or the church.

Today my friend wanted to complain about the lack of pastoral attentiveness of a long-deceased preacher. I guess he thought I’d be sympathetic, since the theme of this complaint was that this dearly departed clergyman had failed to perform his pastoral duty.

“Did you ever know Brother So-and-So?” he asked.

“Yes, I did,” I replied. “Everybody in town knew him; he was a well-respected, highly successful Baptist pastor.”

“Well, what do you think about a preacher who wouldn’t make a hospital visit?”

I held my breath, knowing there would be more to the story. Sure enough, I didn’t have to answer his rhetorical question, because he continued:

“When my relative was hospitalized, we called Brother So-and-So and asked him to make a visit, but this preacher said he was too busy. That’s no way for a preacher to act, especially when my relative played a vital role in the life of our city.”

This conversation was turning out to be more challenging than my puny weights I lift. For the conscientious pastor there is always one more visit that could have been made, one more phone call or email or text that could have been sent. Every pastor has fallen short. I was not qualified to judge this brother now in heaven nor was I going to encourage this pity-party.

Knowing this fellow clergyman had been dead for almost two decades, I gently baited the hook:

“How long ago did this happen? Was it five years ago,” I asked.

“Oh, no,” quickly came the reply. “It was longer ago than that,” he corrected me.

“Was it 10 years ago?”

“No, it was probably 20 to 30 years ago.”

This muscular weightlifter, who could lift far greater weights than I’ll ever be able to approach, was burdened by an immense weight of another kind. He either couldn’t release it or didn’t want to. My itty-bitty weights were calling to me, and my next comment brought our conversation to an abrupt close.

“Let it go, my friend. It’s time for forgiveness. Let it go.” I hope he has.

How long is long enough? What weights are you carrying at the outset of a new year? Let them go.