Hojo I can’t Sleep
I received a phone call from a former colleague. We both taught at a Christian International School. I was also the Spiritual Life Director and, in many ways, the Pastor for the school. Many years had passed since I had last seen him or even spoken to him. I am unsure how he even knew where I was, but he found me. I was delighted to hear from him, but I immediately went into Chaplain mode, wondering what was wrong. It was good just to hear his voice again, but I asked the loaded question, “What’s wrong, Tom?” There was a long pause, then he said, “Jimmy committed suicide.”
Jimmy was his 22-year-old son. As a school chaplain, I knew Jimmy, and I also knew him as a student. Jimmy had severe learning disabilities and social problems. Tom and his family had to return to the US because of Jimmy’s needs. Tom told me that since Jimmy’s death, his life had been crumbling around him. He no longer attended church and had daily shouting sessions with God and Gloria, his wife. He had sought pastoral counseling and thought he had gotten his act together. “That was the problem,” he said, “it was all an act.”
He defined his life by fear. He was afraid of losing his job, Gloria, and that he would start drinking again. “Hojo, I have lost over thirty pounds.” All because he could not force himself to eat. Sleep was fitful. “I am afraid to go to sleep. I go to bed at midnight and lie awake until 2:00 a.m., doze off for an hour or so, and then I get up, pull out the bottle of whiskey, sit it on the table, and just stare at it. Then I put the whiskey away for another day, and go back to bed again until I get up at 5:00 a.m.”
After about an hour, with times of prolonged silence, the “conversation,” such as it was, was ending. After another moment of silence, he let out a deep sigh.
“Tom, are you okay?”
"I feel better now,” said Tom.
I found that so strange. Tom still had his problems, his grief, his depression, his insomnia, and his alcoholism. What did I do? I listened to him talk; I stayed quiet and prayed silently for him. In my mind, I was sitting with my friend beneath a big tree on his family farm, throwing small stones at empty whiskey bottles. I gave him no profound pastoral counseling. I offered no answers. All I offered was some time and my unconditional love as a friend. Remarkably, he said, “I feel better now, Hojo.”
“That’s great Tom.”
“Hojo, I think I can sleep now. I can rest. I am not sure why or how, but it feels like someone is helping me carry my load. I feel like my fear has been lifted. What is that scripture passage you preached in chapel years ago about yokes?”
“Yes, Tom, I think you are thinking of Matthew 11:28-30.”
“Hojo, can you say it as a closing prayer?
“It would be my honor. ‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.’ Amen.”
“Hojo, thank you for listening and for a few minutes of help carrying my burden. I miss you.”
“Tom, I miss you also and please feel free to call anytime night or day. You talk and I will listen.”
What Tom had done was to let go of some of his burdens and take on Jesus’ lighter yoke. He allowed Jesus to help carry his grief and pain. Jesus did not remove all of Tom’s burdens but promised rest for Tom’s soul and help carrying those burdens. I did not try to explain what had happened; he understood when he said he could rest now. We had shared a special moment where Jesus silently took on some of Tom’s burdens because Tom let go of them.
It was clear to me that Tom found some relief in our conversation. It also became clear to me that I found some relief. This phone call was difficult and incredibly stressful. When I hung up, I was wet in sweat and exhausted. At times during the conversation, all I could do was groan in prayer and say, “Oh Jesus.” I was overwhelmed with Tom’s needs and my inadequacies. I was so tired that I turned off my cell phone completely.
As I lay in bed, unable to sleep, I felt a deep peace in my heart. I felt blessed. A song about burdens being lifted at Calvary played in my head. It was then that I realized Jesus not only took our sins with him to the cross, but he also took our burdens. It was a moment of profound spiritual insight and personal growth.