I work at a small Asian cafe tucked away in a corner of this city near the train tracks which guide from time to time a long, rumbling Amtrak painted mustard yellow. I like to talk with customers about their day or their schoolwork, etc. A few days ago a young man entered looking fairly hungover but still wearing a smile. He asked for whatever I would recommend. Handing him his drink, I asked, “So, what do you have planned for today?” He looked me in the eye and said, “Just shakin’ it off and gettin’ ready to do it again.” “Oh, cool” I confirmed, vexed. Then he thanked me and walked out of the cafe.
His words remained with me long after he had gone. Shake it off and do it again. I wondered what “it” was and reprimanded myself for so immediately assuming “it” was a hangover. Of course, it probably was.
Still, I felt that there was some kind of wisdom hidden in his words. Yes, that kind of cyclical partying is an empty, lonely pursuit. Yes, his athletic determination may very well be entirely feigned. Yet there was a beautiful simplicity in his attitude. Substitute “living well” or “loving people” or “serving” for his partying and I think you end up with a powerful outlook on life. I do not approach my days shaking the dust off my shoulders and preparing to serve or love again. I let it build up and bury me, and I’m too afraid to try again the next day.
I think this young man’s words were a paraphrase of Lamentations 3. Shake it off and do it again, because the Lord’s mercies are new every morning.
I am the man who has seen affliction
by the rod of his wrath.
He has driven me away and made me walk
in darkness rather than light;
indeed, he has turned his hand against me
again and again, all day long.
He has made my skin and my flesh grow old
and has broken my bones.
He has besieged me and surrounded me
with bitterness and hardship.
He has made me dwell in darkness
like those long dead.
He has walled me in so I cannot escape;
he has weighed me down with chains.
Even when I call out or cry for help,
he shuts out my prayer.
He has barred my way with blocks of stone;
he has made my paths crooked.
Like a bear lying in wait,
like a lion in hiding,
he dragged me from the path and mangled me
and left me without help.
He drew his bow
and made me the target for his arrows.
He pierced my heart
with arrows from his quiver.
I became the laughingstock of all my people;
they mock me in song all day long.
He has filled me with bitter herbs
and sated me with gall.
He has broken my teeth with gravel;
he has trampled me in the dust.
I have been deprived of peace;
I have forgotten what prosperity is.
So I say, “My splendor is gone
and all that I had hoped from the LORD.”
I remember my affliction and my wandering,
the bitterness and the gall.
I well remember them,
and my soul is downcast within me.
Yet this I call to mind
and therefore I have hope:
Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.”
