Be Still
We slow down a lot on Sundays in our home. Hayes and I were working on a big puzzle one particular Sunday afternoon. He is generally a talkative child, but this day he was extra chatty. In addition to all the talking, he was clinging to my side. I finally asked him if there was something on his mind and he exploded with relief that I asked. He couldn’t stop thinking about a scary rat we saw in a movie. He wanted so badly to stop thinking about it, but didn’t know how to make it stop. He thought that talking and playing would make it go away but it wasn’t working. When he stopped to work on a puzzle, slowing down made thinking about the rat worse.
Isn’t this true for all of us?
We believe that keeping our mind and body busy will make those things we don’t want to think about disappear. I certainly do not have all the answers here and won’t try to quickly and simply solve this deep and complex issue of our soul. The battle here is just not simple, but I do think it is helpful to name the struggle we all have, the struggle to eliminate hurry from our lives.
But when we attempt to fight against hurry, we feel it; we experience the knowing that slowing down is good. Surrendering to Jesus happens here. We begin learning to loosen our grip on the temporary, clinging more tightly to things eternal. We notice unhealthy thought patterns, places we get hung up in our mind. We learn to discern God’s voice from all the others.
In the book of Psalm, King David boldly prays, “Search me and know my anxious thoughts.” Could we do the same?
Theologian Dallas Willard would say that the biggest barrier to our spiritual formation is that we don’t engage the battle to “ruthlessly eliminate hurry” from our lives. This statement is bold and will most likely shape me in some way for the rest of my life. Slowing down is counterintuitive, especially in seasons that hold loss or deep longing.
I know how my sweet Hayes was able to work through thinking about the scary rat. It took time. It took talking out loud about it. We drew pictures of that awful rat and burned the pictures in a bonfire. He asked me questions and I answered, again and again. Maybe that is the posture our Heavenly Father takes with us. He sits with us, He sets fire to all that terrifies us, and He reminds us over and over that we are safe. He is our refuge.
“Be still, and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10
In Christ,
