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Posts Tagged ‘#bestill’

Stillness

Today follows ‘Blue Monday’ … in the middle of the dark, the cold, winter.

Christmas is now past, summer is so far away. The bills are coming in daily, no hint of funds for vacation. The light has been replaced with dark … even the moon’s light recently eclipsed from view.

The alarm rings early, in the dark, but the body, mind and spirit cry out for more rest, more escape from the dark until the sun’s latent appearance. It is cold, wet outdoors, and we stand, feet planted in our slippers, unmotivated to move beyond the threshold.

We just want to remain … still, unmoved by circumstances or will.

“Be still …”

Two words that can be a directive, a forcing against one’s will, like the dark that forces our day to close, our bodies to tire, our minds to hibernate.

It can also be two words that are full grace, and mercy, and sanctuary.

The rhythm of our lives gives us this seasonal opportunity to naturally be still.

It doesn’t have to be just a season of bleak and barren, of down and depressed, of Netflix and novels.

“Be still
and know that I am God.”

In the still and silent, in the shadows and sadness, He no longer needs to shout for His silent whispers permeate our mind, our souls.

He is here. With us. In the stillness.

And we know it.

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It isn’t until summer that I remember how very much I love the colour of the walls in our bedroom.

They are a soft, pale yellow, like butter. I had painted the ensuite bath, in our previous house, with the same colour, and I loved it so much, that I immediately painted our bedroom with the same buttercream yellow, once we moved … thirteen years ago!

It is in the late afternoon, when the sun is shining into the south and west windows of our bedroom that the colour comes alive, and emits not just a brightness, but a sense of delight that brings a smile to my face.

The thing is, I never have or take the time to enjoy this glorious, sacred space.

But, in summer, I sometimes wander into my bedroom, and realize that it is a place of visual magic. I lay on the bed (or get totally irresponsible and slide into the bedsheets … in the middle of the day … gasp!) and my eyes wander as the light is reflected off of my golden walls and into my sun-starved soul.

Pure delight!

As I enjoy yet another summer of such opportunities, I am learning to not take these golden opportunities for granted. These summer days are complete blessings, full of so many opportunities to fill one’s cup.

I think I am finally reaching the point of maturity that I am learning to drop what I think I must do, and just “be still … and know that I am NOT God” (Psalm 46:10 … with edit 😉 ).

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Though hubby would argue that the first day of school is the most wonderful time of the year (cynical man), I know that the season of Christmas is the real thing!

Though the hustle and bustle of shopping, parties, baking, increased Church schedule and all of the regular activities, can usually drive me to near insanity, the buzz leading up to Christmas day does birth an air of excitement that leaves me wonder-filled.

When I can consciously turn off the noise and movement and schedules.

When I can move away from living in the urgent and towards the emergent.

When I can remember the Psalmist’s sage advise to just,

“be still”

Then,

I am freed to be filled with the wonder of the Christmas season.

The mystery of the first Christmas, first draws us in. Angels making announcements of impossible things to come.

The romance is always there in the shadows, as Joseph stays with his lady, and waits until after the child is born, to love her fully (or maybe loving her fully was what he did when he chose to divorce her quietly, or when he chose to obey the angel’s advice).

The drama of the self-centered, egotistical king, determined to go to any lengths to ensure that this Jewish king never steal his throne.

The science fiction of those from the east, the stargazers, traveling to find the king that had been foretold, a long time ago (but not quite in a galaxy far, far away).

The tragedy of no room available for this first family, after having traveled on foot and riding a donkey, heavy in the final days of pregnancy. Sharing a birthing room with beasts of the farmer.

This is the most wonder-filled story ever!

All we need to do is start with “be still and know”

And it will all enfold, as prophesied:

be still,
and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.
The Lord almighty is with us;
The God of Jacob is our fortress.”
Psalm 46:10-11

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Summer is officially here!

The schedules of the school year, of sports and other recreational activities, of work and all that is part of the rest of the year have been put on hold for rest, relaxation and recreation.

One of the best parts of summer is looking at the calendar of July and August in comparison to the rest of the months … there are so many clean blocks, with no writing on many of the days of the week. The calendar in FULL of whitespace!

Whitespace is the part of paper that is not written on.

According to Bonnie Gray, who writes at incourage.me, and faith Barista,

“just as beautiful art needs whitespace,

our souls need spiritual whitespace.”

Enjoy this guest post from Bonnie Gray.

I didn’t want to get out.

But Daddy swung the car door open.

My parents had just divorced and Daddy took me and little sister to the toy store one Saturday morning.

He wanted to buy us something to “Remember Daddy loves you,” as he placed the plastic bag in my hand at checkout. But, all I could think about was Momma. What she told me that morning. That I better not take anything from him.

I didn’t know it at the time, but that visit was going to be the last time I ever saw him again. I was a little girl, seven years tall.

Daddy kept telling me, “It’s okay. It’s okay.” But I didn’t want to walk up to the porch. My legs drilled down into the ground like roots to a thicket of thorns at the bottom of concrete steps.

My Daddy put one hand on my back, pressing me forward, as he grabbed my little sister’s hand in the other. He rapped on the screen door while I blinked and sucked my breath in.

As I held myself there for a million years, the door flew open.

There she stood. Over me.

Even behind the screen, I could see Momma clearly. Her ragged jawline, her teeth clenched and face flushed. Her chest heaving. She took one look at me, at the plastic bag I was holding. I could see it in her eyes.

Anger.

And I broke apart in a thousand pieces right then and there. I knew I shouldn’t do what I did next, because it would make everything worse. But, I couldn’t help it.

I started shaking. Tears began to erupt and my mouth pulled down into a trembling sob. I couldn’t swallow them down. So I began to cry.

Things didn’t go well for me that day, as I stood there at the screen door out on the porch.

There was no space for me.

I was split between who to please and what to do.

I could not find rest.

Longing

Even though I’m all grown up now – mom to two adorable boys, married to a loving husband — deep inside, I’m still that little girl looking for rest.

Longing for space to breathe.

To feed my soul.

To feel and dream dreams.

To just be me.

I need rest.

But, stress seems to always be one step ahead of me.

I’ve wondered if I could ever really stop.

Then, God allowed my life to come to a big stop.

A Beautiful Discovery

Two years ago, at the cusp of a childhood dream coming true – writing my first book – I was launched into a debilitating season of panic attacks, insomnia and anxiety.

Writing triggered memories to come alive. I began reliving them.

I’ve done much harder things in my life, free of panic attacks. I grew up as the oldest child in a single parent family, put myself through college, and launched first-to-market technologies in the high-tech world. I’ve even traveled halfway around the world as an overseas missionary.

But, now overwhelmed by anxiety and stress, I was no longer able to cope the way I always have:

by problem solving,

taking care of others,

planning and doing.

God was allowing my exhausted, weary self to surface, so that I could go on a new beautiful discovery: the journey of rest.

A New Journey

When we come into contact with stress, our natural response is to push through.

We don’t want to be in need or fail to meet others’ expectations, especially our own. We beat ourselves up for not trusting God.

But, God offers us a different response.

Rest. Kindness. Comfort.

Instead of being harder on us, Jesus whispers –

“Come to me, all those who are weary and heavy-laden
and I will give you rest.”  Matthew 11:28

When Jesus was surrounded by pressing needs, Scripture tell us –

“Jesus would often slip away
to the wilderness for prayer.” Luke 5:16

Jesus took time to rest because nurturing his soul with his Father was more important than what He could do.

Putting our hearts firstletting Jesus love us—is a new journey of resting with Him.

As people of faith, our response to stress is not to avoid it.

What we need is rest.

What we need is spiritual whitespace.

Spiritual Whitespace

Whitespace. It’s the space left on a page left unmarked.

Whitespace is not blank. It breathes beauty.

Just as beautiful art needs whitespace, our souls need spiritual whitespace. We need rest.

We are not project plans for God. We are not God’s stock investments, where our value rises and falls with performance.

God after all is an artist. And we are His works of art.

“For we are God’s poeima (the Greek word for workmanship, from which we derive the word “poem”)…
which God prepared beforehand…”
Ephesians 2:10

I ended writing a different book than I started.  I wrote a memoir-driven guide about my search to find rest and the answers as I found them.

To find the things I somehow lost along the way –

Quiet.

Stillness.

Beauty.

Intimacy with God.

Rest is a journey we don’t have to take alone. We need each other.

Let’s live a better story. Move beyond surviving.

Take the journey to rest. Find your spiritual whitespace.  

Listen to Jesus’ gentle whispers –

You’re loved.

You’re cherished.

Just rest.”

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