A Lighter Way 25: The World Is Not Mine to Save
Nov 07, 2026“When despair for the world grows in me…”
Wendell Berry knew about despair for the world, and so do I.
The past months have been intense for my church community, which is approximately one-third Haitian immigrants. An abrupt change to their legal status left many in our community without work and awaiting potential detention or deportation to a country not safe to return to. We’ve spent months delivering groceries, paying rent and utilities, transporting children to school, referring people to immigration attorneys, and, on a couple of occasions, helping families immigrate to Canada.
I have gifts, connections, and relationships that help me and others care for our neighbors. I’ve worked long hours, cried buckets of tears, and even still, people are being detained and deported, and there is no end in sight. It feels like life and death, and quite literally, in some cases, it is.
I can always take one more phone call or answer one more email, and if I don’t, who will? I am uniquely placed in this position to love my neighbors in this very specific way.
And I have been worn out, nearly burnt out, by the burden of helping.
I have had to remind myself that this all doesn't hinge on me.
I am just not that important.
Despite its brokenness and despair, the world is not mine to save.
Jesus pronounced woes on the Pharisees in Scripture. His exhortation toward humility over arrogance is well known. Most assume the Pharisees were the “bad guys.” In truth, the Pharisees were very “good guys.” Those woes are geared toward a group of people who too often have looked a lot like me. The ones doing the things God said to do. The ones who got it right. The ones with too much assurance. The ones who had it all figured out. The ones who thought they mattered more to the story than they did.
“I come into the peace of wild things…”
One day last weekend, my sisters and I hiked a little more than four miles and 2500 feet up Grandfather Mountain in North Carolina. We trekked above the hardwood forest to the Canadian fir zone, watching the leaves fall around us.
I overcame a not insignificant amount of fear to rock-scramble to the top. I was rewarded with an incomparable view of the Appalachians’ brilliant autumn reds, oranges, and yellows.
As I stood on those rocks, which have been here for longer than I can even imagine, I was reminded that I am small.
It was a beautifully humbling moment. I am one piece of an entire universe designed to move and change, to die and flourish, all without my help. I can fall, and I can fail. This world doesn't depend on me or my meager offerings.
“For a time, I rest in the grace of the world and am free…”
That Divine nudge has given me the grace to continue in humility, to serve and love without the pressure of thinking it all rides on me.
The invitation is given:
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly” (The Message, Matt. 11:28-30).
Laying down my self-importance, I can walk forward in humility. I can give myself freely without exhaustion because I trust that the Creator of all upholds me.
A Practice:
Tracy Balzer states, in her book about pilgrimage, A Journey of Sea and Stone, “We don’t get to determine how God will speak. Instead, we are invited to engage in the active spiritual practice of paying attention, of taking notice of what God has to say in God’s way. This posture of humility makes us more open to the transforming presence of God, where we might find ourselves. It is wisdom to stand, watch, wait, and listen.”
Stand: Go somewhere that makes you feel small. Many of us live near beautiful landscapes – ocean, mountains, rivers, deserts – but if you don’t, find a piece of created beauty. Art, music, architecture, and literature can all speak to a perfectly designed universe far bigger than us.
Watch: Look at the beauty that surrounds you. What can you see, smell, touch, taste?
Wait: What humility is being asked of you today?
What are you able to put down?
Listen: Not to your AirPods – to the world around you. What do you hear from the Divine? How can you move forward to love yourself, others, and the earth with “unforced rhythms of grace”?
Blessing:
May you gently learn to let go of your despair for the world.
May you gently learn to rest. Real rest.
May you gently learn the peace of wild things.
May you gently learn to work lightly and freely.
May you gently learn the unforced rhythms of grace.
May you be free.
1. Wendell Berry, “The Peace of Wild Things” in New Collected Poems (Counterpoint 1968), 79.
2. Berry, “Peace of Wild Things,” 79.
3. Tracy Balzer, A Journey of Sea and Stone (Broadleaf 2021), 314.
This twenty-fifth reflection is by Suzanne Slagell, a graduate of WTC's Spiritual Direction program.
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