Midweek Musing- May 21, 2025 "Calling the Foreman"

Psalm 121:1–2 (NRSV)

“I lift up my eyes to the hills—from where will my help come?My help comes from the Lord,who made heaven and earth.”

There’s a story told from the days of the Industrial Revolution. At a wool mill signs hung above every machine that read: “If the threads become tangled, call the foreman.” Some even had hand-scribbled edits between ‘call the’ and ‘foreman’—you can probably guess the added word.

Anyway, one young woman on her first day found herself in the very predicament the sign gave a warning about. The threads going through the machine had knotted and twisted into a ball of total chaos. It was a kitten’s dream but this new employee’s nightmare.

Being nervous about making a mistake on her first day she decided that rather than call for help, she would try to fix it herself. As you can guess, of course, this only made the mess much worse.

Finally, in desperation, she had to call for the foreman. When the foreman arrived, he just stared into the ball of tangled thread. Shaking his head he began to untangle the mess. Blushing with embarrassment, the young worker confessed as the foreman worked on the machine, “I am so sorry. I just didn’t want to bother you. I was doing my best.”

He responded gently but firmly while pointing to the sign above the machine: “Doing your best includes calling the foreman.”

That story and line have been ruminating in my brain for a few days now.

In part this has occurred because I am like that young worker - I am a fixer.

I see a problem and want to jump in and fix it right away.

And I get especially annoyed when I am unable to do so.

Over the last few days, I’ve spent lots of time in a variety of hospital waiting areas. (2 different hospitals, 4 patient rooms, 3 waiting rooms, and one hospital cafeteria but who is counting.)

I have spent hours filled with worry, helplessness, and aching love for my sister as she faces a difficult road ahead. A brain tumor and the word "surgery" are enough to shake any sense of control she or I or anyone in my family thought we had.

All of us want to fix it.

I want to untangle this problem. I want to make the threads of life smooth again. But I can’t.

And realizing this truth, this ancient Psalm came to my mind—again and again:“I lift up my eyes to the hills— from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”

As hard as it is for many of us to admit, the help we truly need doesn’t come from within ourselves. In a world that constantly urges us to be self-reliant, to push through, to handle it on our own—well to admit we can’t—may feel like failure. But in truth, it’s not failure, it’s faith. Because real help doesn’t come from our effort, our intelligence, or our courage—important as those things are. It comes from beyond us. It comes from the One who made us, sustains us, and walks beside us.

Real help, sustaining help, Holy help—comes from God. Not a God who is distant, but a God who is always near in both good times and bad. A God who made heaven and earth, sun and moon, planets and stars and yet leans close enough to hear the faint whisper of our anxious prayers. A God who invites us to call—not as a last resort, but as the first number on our speed dial.

Because sometimes doing our best in this life is not about how hard we work, but about how deeply we trust.

Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is stop trying to fix things and say,"Lord, this one is too big for me. I need your help."

So, when you find yourself in a waiting room be it literal or metaphorical, simply remember this:

You are not abandoned.

You are not forsaken.

You are not forgotten.

And you are never alone in this life.

Remember that we belong in body and soul, in life and in death to our faithful Savior, Jesus Christ.

So, lift up your eyes.

Call the Foreman.

Trust the help is already on the way

In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Alleluia Amen.