Forgetting the rest…
*I feel the need to add this morning’s reading to this post as a reminder that there is one place to go with these questions, with our needs. And that the answer to self-driving busy-ness is not self-focus of a different kind. It is only in re-directing the eyes of our hearts to the Giver of Life that we find any rest for our weariness:
“Show me YOUR ways, O Lord
TEACH me YOUR paths
Guide me in YOUR truth and TEACH me
for YOU are GOD my SAVIOR
and my hope is in You ALL DAY LONG.”
He loves me, and he knows me. He knows me, yet he loves me.
My better half has a way of seeing through the chaos and the tales I’ve led myself to believe…for better or worse.
Much to my chagrin, he knows my blindspots.
He sees the inconsistencies in my reasoning. My seeming inability to trust, to relinquish control. My addiction to work and anxiety and perfection and impossible commitments. The resulting impatience I have toward the people I love most. The constant running of a mind that has forgotten how to rest.
I’ve said it for years:
My greatest fear is not having enough time, in a day, in a life.
I love and I long to live love the way God does, and…I know it’s often not about anything but…I.
Every day feels like a battle against the clock. Passion propels an exhausted body and large family relentlessly onward because the kids need clean clothes and healthy food and the church needs contributing members and the neighborhood needs community and the world needs saving and music and friendship and compassion and if not me, then who?
(It’s okay. You can say it. It’s true.)
This isn’t noble, selfless living. This is driven living. It may be sincere, it may be love; but it’s also a false belief that everything and everyone depend on moi. That God might not be quite up to the task, or may not have the army he thought he had.
Don’t I sort of want to be hands and feet and every other part of the spiritual body?
Isn’t that just a bit egocentric? Prideful? Willful?
If it is, what then is the answer? Scripture makes it clear that self-sacrifice is not a bad thing and that righteous suffering is part of the job. And shouldn’t we wring every bit of ourselves out for the treasures of a permanent kingdom while we’re here in the midst of such spiritual and physical hunger?
Perhaps we are meant to do the work we are doing. But differently.
Or…perhaps we are meant to do the work in seasons and not all at once.
I honestly do not know. I only know we were made for the work and the rest. And I. don’t. know. how.
I write this here as confession. I write it “out loud” because it’s embarrassing, and that probably means I should admit it. I’m writing to ask if you’ll pray for me.
And, as I write anything, I write hoping we find ourselves less alone.