When we were kids, we learned the song, “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands.” The song lists off the things that are in God’s hands: brothers, sisters, tiny little babies, if I recall. Everything. The whole world. So when did we start carrying it?
There’s this Greek myth about the guy who holds up the world. Atlas, I believe his name is. Carries the weight of the whole thing on his shoulders. It’s his job, and he’s stuck there doing it, and he can’t force the weight onto anybody else, much as he wants to. In fact, the only way to take the weight from Atlas is to volunteer. You can’t be tricked, forced, or coerced into taking the weight of the world. You have to take it willingly.
I don’t believe God has dropped the great big ball that is this world and that we’re left to hold it ourselves, nor did He trick us into carrying it. I believe, somewhere along the way, we opted to take on God’s job and voluntarily smashed ourselves under the weight of the falling sky.
Peace is when the weight of the world rests where it belongs, not on me, but on God. It’s what we felt as kids, when singing, “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands” still felt like the truth. Peace flees when I try to carry the weight of the world. Only God’s shoulders are big enough, and it’s time I let God do His job.
Excerpt from “Peace and How to Keep It.”