“Secure your own mask first.”
You’re enjoying a nice, smooth ride when, suddenly, you are jolted awake by violent shaking and terrified cries. (Whether the screams are yours or someone else’s, you’re not even certain.)
With a sputter and a bang, your whole world stops with your loved one’s heart.
Enter: grief.
You brace for impact as you plummet toward the ground, certain that you’ll never survive. Sickened by turbulence and paralyzed by fear, you can’t seem to remember how to breathe. Instinctively, mechanically, you rush about, trying to tend to those around you—those who depend on you.
All the while, you’re running out of air. And then you are spinning… your life is spinning… everything is spinning out of control.
You’ve forgotten to put on your own oxygen mask.
Even years into the aftermath of the tragedy, there are occasional days you find yourself still digging around in the wreckage, looking for something of value to come out of the catastrophe. You get easily overwhelmed with the barrage of difficult circumstances. You are discouraged by disappointments and undone by the unknowns. You ask yourself why you’re still here, overcome with anxiety.
I know, because I still have moments like that.
And those are the moments we are most likely to neglect our relationship with the Breath-giver; too distracted to do the one needful thing.
Until the voice on the intercom speaks.
“Secure your own mask first.”
It kinda sounds selfish, doesn’t it? I mean, isn’t self-sacrifice the sign of a good mom? A good spouse? A good person?
Shouldn’t we care more for others than we do ourselves?
Sure. But there’s a good reason the flight attendant tells you to put on your own mask first.
The truth is, we can’t offer something to anyone else unless we first possess it.
I can’t offer my children patience and grace if I haven’t gotten rest. I can’t provide for their physical needs if I am weak from not having eaten in days. I can’t help them survive their grief journey if I haven’t accepted help with mine. I can’t pour out refreshing water for the thirsty if my own cup is empty.
And I can’t offer anyone a breath of spiritual fresh air unless I have first taken in a heathy dose of God’s life-giving oxygen.
If we’re not prioritizing our spiritual, mental and physical wellbeing, then we’re not really prioritizing those who love and depend on us, either.
Read that again.
Almost 2,000 years ago, Paul told Timothy, “Keep a close watch on yourself and on the teaching. Persist in this, for by so doing you will save both yourself and your hearers.” (1 Tim. 4:16) In other words, if you want to help others, your first priority is your walk with God.
If it was necessary for Timothy, it’s necessary for us.
It’s a bumpy ride, this life. Some of us have had more than our share of turbulence. There’s no denying that catastrophic events have rocked our world, but we don’t have to go down for lack of air.
We have life-giving oxygen at our disposal. However, it’s not going to do anyone any good unless we connect ourselves to it.
It’s His breath in our lungs that allows us the privilege of breathing life into others.
And it IS a privilege!
Friend, we must inhale a personal relationship with Jesus every day.
Rest in Him. Talk to Him. Learn His ways. Trust His heart. Rely on His Spirit. It’s the only way.
The Spirit of the Living God will renew your spirit and give you resurrection power to carry on. He will even give you an overflow of hope and strength to exhale to others.
But first… breathe.
