It’s Sunday, for some a day of rest. It doesn’t matter who you are. In your heart, you long for a lasting rest. We are always searching for it, for a way to be filled up. And on Sundays I journal and pray about rest. Won’t you breathe and read slowly and think on this one thing? Won’t you stay and be still with me for a few spectacular, ordinary moments? 

You know when you see large groups of birds flying together, up and down, over and up, and it’s so beautiful? A murmuration, it’s called, when starlings fly in their ensemble.

Yeah that’s not what’s happening in my head. I can get in that sort of flow if I really try, but moment to moment, it’s really a cacophony of some less orderly creature, like speeding bats but maybe without their echolocation.

When you’re dealing with so much externally, I don’t think your insides really are on hold. They continue doing stuff, but if you can’t pause to take a look, they don’t do stuff really well. So your body keeps working, but it won’t digest like it should, and your mind keeps going, but it becomes cluttered and confused.

I have so many ideas of what I want to do with my interests, passions, gifts. What my ideal job would be, how to pursue my dreams, how to really cultivate the life and community of our church and The Church. I feel strong burdens for certain individuals and situations.

And some things, such as the location of a new job for Hubs, our roles at church, me trying to research and write things and pursue a career – they feel wobbly and uncertain, and I can’t sort my feelings, and I don’t really know where we’re going. Of late I have let the flapping and turning and fluttering overwhelm my consciousness. There are just times when you’re running off-trail in a haze. Or flying in a mess of confused bats. Or living inside a vacuum cleaner. You feel me.

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I can’t stop the noise and the wind and the movement of everything. But I can step out of it into the shelter of God’s presence, for even just moments.

I can exist in such a way that, on this Sabbath day, I prioritize time rather than what is space-related. We live our days always concerned about things, and space. But the first thing God called holy was a day, not a thing.

When I use a day to glory in God Himself, I am putting aside the things of space and matter. Friend, those are very good, as God said when He created them. But they are not everything. His Presence is joy and rest.

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Today, may I tune in to my brain and my heart and let God sort out the clutter. May I welcome God’s strength, which gives me eagle wings* – even better than starlings.

*Isaiah 40:29-31

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 And he said, “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”

Exodus 33:14

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Featured image by Stephanie Gannon: http://cowbird.com/story/37779/The_Murmuration/

It’s Sunday, for some a day of rest. It doesn’t matter who you are. In your heart, you long for a lasting rest. We are always searching for it, for a way to be filled up. And on Sundays I journal and pray about rest. Won’t you breathe and read slowly and think on this one thing? Won’t you stay and be still with me for a few spectacular, ordinary moments? 

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Blessed are the pure in heart, who leave everything to God now as they did before they ever existed.

[Meister Eckhart]

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Almighty God, maker of heaven and earth, we confess to You that we don’t believe You are almighty.

We confess that, of our own accord, we often bear burdens better left to You.

We confess that we think so much of ourselves, that if we set those burdens down — or never took them up — the world You created might start turning the other direction and everything would be terrible.

We think so much of ourselves, that we believe we can and should carry weighty things and busy things all by ourselves.

We are distracted from this pride by our genuine desire to help others, to care for someone, to look out for ourselves.

And we are so blinded.

And we are so tired.

Lord our healer, Lord our provider, mend us.

We are in dire need of rescue from ourselves. Stay our hands that would accept or cling to what is not ours to bear. Or else, strengthen those hands with Your power, that we might not bear them alone.

Almighty God, teach us to believe Your might.

Teach us to leave everything to You.

Amen.

It’s Sunday, for some a day of rest. It doesn’t matter who you are. In your heart, you long for a lasting rest. We are always searching for it, for a way to be filled up. And on Sundays I journal about rest. Won’t you breathe and read slowly and think on this one thing? Won’t you stay and be still with me for a few spectacular, ordinary moments? 

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The waves seem to push you back, saying stay. Be still. Though all of life pecks and cries at you, this remains. Be still.

Breathe in clean air. See the beauty of birds flying low over the water, up over waves and down behind them. See the waves collide with splashes like watery lace. These things go on. They go on, like the God of time goes on outside of it.

Your moments are brief and scattered if you never stay and be. Time, like this fog, keeps us from seeing what’s on that horizon. But look, there is light above it.

The light is never extinguished, though at times it dims here under clouds and nightfall. Listen to the water rhythm and let yourself be, for now.

God-over-time is the one who does. He does, and you should be.  Be, first, before you do. Before, and after, and during. Your breath can be like the waves – in, out, steady, slow.

When we’re tempted by calls to busy-ness, He tells us to know He is God, and He will take care of things. Be still.