Moses’ hands, however, grew tired; so they took a rock and put it under him and he sat on it. Meanwhile Aaron and Hur supported his hands, one on one side and one on the other, so that his hands remained steady until sunset. // Exodus 17:12
Swaying on my crutches in the parking lot, a stack of books balanced on one arm while stuffing things into my backpack, I heard someone approach. I turned to see the concerned smile of our pastor. “Can I carry something?” he offered.
The obvious answer was yes—but my automatic response came sailing out: “No, I’ve got it—I’m good, thanks!”
I had missed the bottom step on my way out the door early Corpus Christi Sunday morning. Pushing the pain aside through a busy day of Masses, pedaling the organ as best I could, and coordinating the Corpus Christi procession, I finally admitted something was wrong. An x-ray landed me in a boot, on crutches, carrying everything I needed in a backpack since I couldn’t use my hands . . . and telling the priest that I didn’t need his help.
He raised his eyebrows, and I had to laugh. I need someone’s help many more times each day than I’m willing to admit. But in my own mind, I am Capable with a Capital C. I have everything under control.
Today’s reading from Joshua depicts Moses, in whom God’s power moves so forcefully that he can affect the outcome of a battle with his hands. Hands up? The Israelites are winning. Hands down? They’re losing. It’s a great situation for Israel, except for one thing: even Moses got tired sometimes.
Aaron and Hur bring him a rock to sit on, and they stand, one on each side, and hold up his arms. As long as they are there to support him, Israel’s victory is assured.
We aren’t meant to do it alone. God made us to need Him. It’s not about proving how capable we are, but in recognizing on Whom we depend for help . . . and sometimes, in being willing to accept God’s help from a fellow human being.
The Liturgy of the Hours begins each Office with this prayer: God, come to my assistance. Lord, make haste to help me. Try praying this short acclamation the next time you’re overwhelmed and then pay attention to how His help shows up.
We aren’t meant to do it alone. // Abbey Dupuy Click to tweet
Abbey Dupuy holds a masters in liturgical music from Saint John’s University and works in parish liturgical ministry. She and her husband and four children are transplants to Minnesota. In her spare time, she loves cross-country skiing, gardening, coffee, and reading cookbooks, not usually at the same time. She is a contributing author to our children’s devotional prayer book, Rise Up and author of our Blessed Conversations: The Virtues.
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