Have you ever noticed that when you start something new, you have all this energy for it? In dating, for example, they call that ânew relationship energyâ, where everything is sharp and vital and you canât get enough of each other. Well, I totally had ânew routine energyâ on the first day. Over the weekend, after school closure was announced, I had sketched out a rough idea of the routine I wanted to get myself and my daughter into over this long duration at home. I talked it over with her and did my best to give myself grace for that first day–that it didnât have to be perfect and, if it didnât come together at all, that was okay, too. You know what? The first Monday home went beautifully! We accomplished every part of my proposed routine, with minimal snags or objections. It was an absolute dream!
Then came Tuesday. The only difference in Tuesday was a moved-up dentist appointment, but everything still went relatively well. Even now, I can still feel the novelty, the newness of the routine, of this situation, buzzing along my skin, and I think it is what is keeping my daughter relatively docile. New things, new chances, new interactions with these people with whom I spend my life. Despite this being our house, our town, our stuff, this is now our daily routine(s) writ small and contained in this space. Itâs still there, that ânew routine energyâ, but I cannot help but think on down the road, down the days and weeks, to where the routine will becomeâŚwellâŚroutine. When it gets old and the everyday sets in. Thatâs when things get hard, tempers get short, the space seems too small, and the days seem oh, so long.
That is when we really need each other. When we start to follow blindly because âitâs what we doâ, thatâs when it is so very helpful to have that surprise phone call from a friend, your favorite song playing as their ringtone. That is when the chirp of the video-chat call on your computer or a letter in the mail is so very welcome. That is when a break in the energy is needed.
Jesus interrupted that âroutine energyâ on a not-so-routine basis. He ate at the homes of tax collectors and social pariahs. He held conversations with women often called harlots. He touched the untouchable. For Jesus, âthis is how we have always done itâ wasnât good enough. If it didnât center around people and love and mercy, it was not good enough. Life as it had always been done was not âroutineâ for Him.
May we be willing to break our routines for people, for love, for mercy. May we take that extra time at the table or on the couch to listen to the story our child made up. May we make just a little more coffee than normal so that our partner can have an extra cup as they try to figure out how Microsoft Teams works. May we be willing to do what Jesus did: break the routine energy in those moments when it is (or even just could be) so very vital.
