Being Human

Learning to be thankful

I’m so thankful for the humanness of the humans in the Bible.

I haven’t always felt this way. For many years after being saved, I looked down on the shortcomings of those people. I could do better than that. I could be stronger, wiser, more faithful to my Lord than they were.

After decades of humbling and growth, becoming thankful for their examples, not as instructions in what not to do, but as illustrations of what to do. Be honest. Be real. Admit to my weaknesses before God, and even before other people. See myself as I am. Accept uncertainty.

Jehoshaphat

In 2 Chronicles chapter 20, the nation of Judah is being threatened by “a vast army.” King Jehoshaphat “resolved to inquire of the Lord.” He assembles the people at the temple and prays.

First he reviews God’s attributes and actions. “You rule over all the kingdoms of the nations. Power and might are in your hand, and no one can withstand you.” And yet Jehoshaphat feels helpless. He ends the prayer by saying, “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon you.”

Here’s God’s chosen leader, a direct descendant of the great King David. Shouldn’t he be reminding the people of how a lowly shepherd once defeated a fierce giant? Shouldn’t he be rallying the troops by proclaiming that they can do all things through God’s strength? Instead he confesses, in front of all those who are looking to him for leadership, “We do not know what to do.”

Maybe it’s okay if I say the same thing sometimes. Maybe I don’t need to feel pressured to have an answer for everything. Maybe it’s okay for me to admit to God, and in front of others who are depending on me, “I don’t know what to do.”

Always followed by, “But my eyes are upon You.” The Lord knows what’s happening. As a mere creature, I can’t possibly understand it all. Thank You, Father, for this example of Jehoshaphat’s humility and honesty and trust.

James and John

In Mark 10:35, the disciples James and John make the bold statement to Jesus, “We want you to do for us whatever we ask.” What cheek! What nerve! What audacity! Do they have any idea who they’re talking to?

And yet, how often do I have a similar attitude? How often are my prayers focused more on getting what I want than on seeking His will and His glory?

My 1985 NIV Study Bible comments that it shows “how spiritually undiscerning the disciples were.” I used to take this as saying, “Don’t be like them.” Now I see it as reassurance that even the greatest among the disciples could be completely foolish like me.

Reassurance, because Jesus doesn’t dismiss James and John as unworthy of His attention. He continues to love them and teach them and bless them. He uses them to do great things for His kingdom.

No one is hopeless. Not them. Not me. Thank You, Father, for sharing Your followers’ weaknesses in Your Word.

Peter

In Luke 9:28-36, Jesus’ appearance is transfigured in the presence of His top three disciples, Peter, John, and James. “His clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. Two men, Moses and Elijah, appeared in glorious splendor.”

Peter is caught completely off guard. But he can’t remain silent and still. He suggests building shelters for the three of them. Luke comments, “He did not know what he was saying.”

The great Peter, leader in the early church, author of two of the books in the Bible, and martyr for his Lord, says something stupid while witnessing the most incredible revelation anyone in the New Testament has seen up to that point. Thank You, Father, for demonstrating that I won’t be rejected and despised by You when I say stupid things.

A group of disciples

In Acts chapter 21, Paul is on his way to Jerusalem for the last time. He knows, and God has revealed to others, that something ominous awaits him there.

Through the activity of the Holy Spirit, the disciples are absolutely convinced that God wants them to talk Paul out of going, while Paul demonstrates his certainty that God wants him to go. They can’t both be right. 

In the end, “we and the people there pleaded with Paul not to go up to Jerusalem. … When he would not be dissuaded, we gave up and said, ‘The Lord’s will be done.’”

How often are Christian leaders willing to follow this example and simply give up the fight when there’s a conflict between two groups who both have good reasons for believing that God is on their side? How often am I willing to give up when I’m so sure that I’m right?

I’m thankful for these verses that illustrate a lack of understanding among those early believers, and their response to it. God didn’t send a clear revelation to confirm exactly what He wanted them to do. He left them in their uncertainty. Maybe I can be content with the ambiguity and confusion in my life and trust Him to do His will.

Not knowing

Thank You, Father, that these four passages tell me that it’s okay to be human, to stumble and fall and be uncertain. All of Your followers, even the greatest ones that we read about in Your Word, have the same problem.

One of the ties among these situations is that, in every case, the believers involved didn’t know. King Jehoshaphat publicly admitted that he didn’t know what to do. In Mark, Jesus tells James and John, “You don’t know what you are asking.” Peter didn’t know what he was saying. The disciples in Acts didn’t know what the Holy Spirit really wanted.

Sometimes I just don’t know. And that’s okay.

God promises to be with me, to lead me. Jesus promises that I’ll hear His voice. The Father gave me the Holy Spirit so that I’ll know what to do and what to say. And yet, like Jehoshaphat and James and John and Peter and a whole group of disciples, sometimes I just don’t know. Sometimes it’s because I’m being stupid, but sometimes God withholds information.

I can be thankful for these examples, though, and do as Jehoshaphat and the disciples did. Keep bringing my eyes back to Him. Keep praying that His will will be done.

One day I’ll understand it all. And my thankfulness for His wisdom and grace and kindness and love and truth will far exceed anything I can express in this life right now.

 

 

 

Keep Me

The song

Singing a song in church on Sunday. The pastor doesn’t introduce it as a new one. He just plunges right in as if we should all know it. 

Wondering, why don’t I recognize this? Maybe I’ve never really paid attention to the words. That would be unusual for me. Maybe I tuned them out because I didn’t want to think about applying them in a personal way.

I don’t. I don’t want to sing them, to mean them, to ask God to make them real in my life. It would be too painful.

And yet those words reflect just what I should want. What I need. What Jesus encourages us to long for.

When I go online the next day to print out the words, I’m surprised to discover that it’s been about twenty years since they were first recorded. How could I have missed them in all that time?

The song: “Keep Me,” by the Crabb Family.

The part that I like

I can honestly sing and relate to some of the requests that it voices. “Keep me lost for words to praise you enough … Keep me praying, keep me trusting … Keep me coming back to you.”

I want a God who’s so big and mysterious and sublime that I can’t come up with all the right words to praise Him. I want a God who helps me to continue praying and trusting even when I don’t feel like it, who keeps drawing me back to Him when I wander.

I want a God who makes my life better in ways that I can see and understand. In ways that turn me from feeling lost to finding joy in Him.

The part that I don’t like

But keep me hungry, keep me thirsty, keep me falling, keep me broken? (That’s the one that really gets to me.) How can I sing these words and actually mean them?

Can I honestly say that I want God to keep me hungry for daily manna? No. I don’t want an ongoing hunger even after I’ve just eaten, as those words keep me imply. I want to be so satisfied that I don’t feel any hunger at all for at least a little while.

Can I honestly say that I want God to keep me thirsty for living water? No. I want to take another sip before my throat begins to dry out. I’ve heard that marathon runners are advised to start pre-hydrating a day or two before the race begins. Be prepared. Avoid the suffering and danger.

That’s what I want God to do for me spiritually. Don’t keep me thirsty. Keep me well-hydrated.

Can I honestly say that I want God to keep me falling on my knees in need of mercy? No. I don’t want to constantly carry such a deep sense of unworthiness that I actually collapse. I want to sit in my usual chair at my usual time of day, put my feet up, close my eyes, and go through my usual prayer routine, which sometimes includes a sentence or two regarding His mercy.

Besides, a need for mercy implies some kind of failure. Why can’t I be an overcomer instead? Isn’t that what God wants me to be, as John writes about in the book of Revelation?

Keep me broken??? Who would ever pray such a prayer? Not me. I pray, “Keep me safe. Keep me strong.”

This song isn’t asking God to see me through a tough time, like all the ones that I like so much do. It’s those two words that get to me: “keep me.” I don’t want Him to keep me in a needy state.

The benefits of the painful keep me’s

And yet there are good reasons for being kept in painful situations. Maybe the song hits me so hard right now because God has been reminding me lately that I can minister to others better in my brokenness. Instead of constantly praying for Him to take it away, He’s been encouraging me to appreciate the good that comes from it. To accept it. To be content. (Definitely not there yet.)

And when I’m hungry and thirsty and falling and broken, that’s when I see my dependence on Him most clearly. Somewhere inside, I know I need Him all the time. But when I’m feeling healthy and whole, I’m much less aware of that fact.

The Bible mentions other benefits to God’s keeping me longing and hurting. I’ve commented on them in my various articles, so I’m not going to try to list them here. What strikes me right now is how the thoughts I’ve just mentioned help me to defy Satan. Satan wants to keep me wallowing in self-pity and a sense of entitlement.

Finding balance

So yes, I should be praying the prayers in this song. Even the ones I don’t like. But maybe I could go too far in that direction, too. Just like I can go too far in asking for healing and strength.

It’s also good to nourish and hydrate my soul even in those times when I’m not aware of being hungry or thirsty. Like the marathon runner.

If I hadn’t started reading the Bible and becoming involved in my church as a baby Christian, I probably wouldn’t have had the strength to resist the suicidal impulses a few years later. I might have had a semi-conscious sense of hunger and thirst then, like when I take a sip of water before I really need it, but I didn’t have the constant feeling of deprivation that I’m hearing in this song. And that was okay.

And I remember the very simple truth that, when Jesus was walking this earth, He healed. He didn’t keep people in their physical pain and paralysis. Maybe what I was missing when this song hit me so hard is the idea that He can keep us continually hungry, and continually satisfy that hunger, at the same time.

Kind of like sitting down to an infinite banquet with a healthy appetite and enjoying every delicious bite forever. The hunger I’d feel wouldn’t be a painful thing. It would be a spur to take the next mouthful, which I could do without any of the negative consequences such as being uncomfortably full or gaining excessive weight.

A "keep me" prayer doesn’t imply that God stands back and lets us suffer in our brokenness without providing the relief that we long for. He still heals.

Maybe I need to pray in a more balanced way, like the song does. Keep me praying and trusting and coming back to You. I can’t do those things on my own, as much as I try to give myself credit for them. But also keep me aware of my intense need for You, even when that means being broken moment by moment and day by day.

 

 

 

I Can Laugh

Worship and laughter

“All joking aside, now it’s time to worship.” Those were the words of a lay leader after sharing the announcements (and a few funny comments) during the Sunday morning service. I’d been thinking about doing a post on laughter, so her statement caught my attention.

I understood what she meant. The announcement time, which really couldn’t be described as worship, was over. Now we needed to focus on God with reverence and humility. But I wondered, can’t we worship and laugh at the same time? Are we sometimes expressing our worship of God in our laughter?

Several years ago John, a young relative, was going through a tough time. I naturally felt his stress and sorrow and frustration. One day, he received some much-needed financial help in the form of a check. He told me that he was taking it to the bank to cash it, but he was a little nervous about walking out of the building with all that money in his pocket.

So he took a few hefty buddies along with him. He asked them to wait in his car while he went inside. When he came out of the bank, if anyone seemed to be following him, his passengers were to jump out and look mean.

He entered the bank. There, three people ahead of him in line, was a friend in upper management in the organization that John worked for. (What are the odds of that happening???) The manager offered to wait for John to complete his transaction so they could walk out to the parking lot together and have a brief chat.

They left side by side. Approached John’s sedan.

Suddenly three car doors flew open and a group of athletic young men burst out, glaring at the manager menacingly. He looked startled, then alarmed, muttered a quick goodbye, spun around, and hurried off. They all got back inside and broke into hysterics. John immediately called me and told me what had happened.

My laughter in response to the situation ministered to me in a special way. As I blinked back a few tears, I was praising God for the stress relief. Most of that relief came through the unexpected check, but the humor of the situation also helped. I was worshiping Him in that moment. Could my laughter itself be considered a part of that worship?

The benefits of laughter

Laughter is refreshing. It’s good for us. For many decades, Reader’s Digest has included a regular feature titled, “Laughter: The Best Medicine.”

According to a Mayo Clinic article in their section on stress management, “Laughter helps you take in oxygen-rich air, which stimulates your heart, lungs and muscles. Laughter also increases feel-good chemicals called endorphins that your brain releases.” It “fires up and then cools down your stress response,” helping you to relax.

It may also provide long-term benefits for the immune system, “make it easier to cope with tough situations,” and help you “connect with other people.” Ella Wheeler Wilcox wrote in her poem, “Solitude” (1883), “Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone.”

Being serious

Where do I hear the most laughter today? Among Christians.

About twenty years ago, I was invited by a group of friends to see the movie, The Bucket List. I was told it was a comedy. I wasn’t thrilled with the premise, but I knew I could use a good laugh.

There weren’t many of those. The two main characters, who were both terminally ill, spent far more time facing serious issues and engaging in personal conflicts than joking around. From what I’ve seen, that’s been the trend in modern movies: What used to be labelled as drama, with a few funny moments thrown in, is now considered comedy. Not in my book.

Our current culture is far more serious than it was when I was younger. Everything is a crisis. Perpetual outrage is encouraged and inflamed by influencers. Anger is considered the best indication of how much someone cares. Even where there’s humor today, how much of it is hateful—biting, cutting, intended to hurt?

We’re not made to carry that kind of weight around. Anger and hatred destroy. Laughter revives. Filmmakers recognize this when they intentionally include comic relief in even the most serious movies. In real life, if that relief doesn’t come from lightening up (including laughing) people will turn to the excessive use of sex, drugs, and alcohol to find it. A perfect setup for the increase in deaths from despair—drug abuse, alcoholism, and suicide—that we’re seeing today.

Why do Christians (in my experience) laugh noticeably more than the culture as a whole? Shouldn’t we be taking life as seriously as everybody else does?

We face much higher stakes—those with eternal consequences. The Bible never mentions Jesus laughing. When I did a word search for laugh on Bible Gateway, there were negative uses in the list of verses, as well as positive ones. 

Why we can laugh

We can laugh because the Lord draws us into more intimate human relationships than we can have without Him. We can let our guard down among the body of Christ as we laugh. Genuine laughter occurs most often with people who we know will accept us no matter what.

There have been times in our history when Church leaders emphasized solemnity and frowned on lightheartedness. That’s carried over somewhat into my own experience.

Many years ago, I was at a funeral for a woman who’d suffered from a crippling chronic medical condition for a long time. She was a believer. Her passing was, in many ways, a relief. In those days, a “funeral” was a recognition of the pain and grief that accompanies death, not a “celebration of life.” It was mostly serious.

At the reception, I hung around with some friends that I hadn’t seen for a while. We got to talking and joking. Knowing them, and the situation, as well as I did, I didn’t consider it inappropriate. But other people started frowning at us, so we toned it down a bit.

I still remember the thrill and the sense of “of course!” the first time I heard someone say that God has a sense of humor. Humor is a good thing. All good things come from above (James 1:17). Of course He has a sense of humor! The Bible doesn’t come right out and say that, but it can be seen in many passages. It might just be a natural expression of His and our joy.

Maybe the more we hold the dominant American viewpoint that this world is all there is and that we can control it to a large extent, the more seriously we take it all. Then when our efforts to control the world fail (as they always do), the anger and the seriousness increase.

But we as Christians can escape this trap. We do have responsibilities to the world. God expects us to weep with those who weep, to relieve suffering, to stand up for the afflicted and oppressed, to be good stewards of the environment, to share the gospel.

But we know that the ultimate outcome is in His hands. We know that we don’t have as much control over events as we think we do. And we know that there’s more to life than this physical world alone.

My role is to follow the Holy Spirit’s leading and guidance, to serve in the areas where God wants me to be. I can’t change the entire world, but I can make a small difference by being obedient to His calling and His laws. He’s the one who will make all things work together for good, not me.

There are times when I can’t see any good coming from a particular situation. But I know, from experience and from His Word, that I can trust Him with it. The weight of the world isn’t mine to bear.

And so I can laugh.

 

 

 

Division and Unity

The lesson

I don’t remember exactly when it started. Sometime between fifteen and twenty years ago, I think. I’m still struggling with it, though.

The Holy Spirit has been grabbing my attention, pulling me along, hitting me over the head with it. Convicting me. Also making it possible for me to respond the way God wants me to, even though it feels like my progress has been painfully slow.

And now, today, I’m so glad He began working on me way back then. Because that lesson is one I need to put into practice now more than ever.

What is it? “Love one another” (John 13:34).

It sounds so simple. And yet Jesus waited until His last day on earth to give His disciples this “new command.” Maybe they couldn’t really do it until they’d spent three years in close fellowship with Him. Or maybe they wouldn’t be able to do it until after they’d received the Holy Spirit.

I’m a critical thinker, which can be a good thing. It makes it easier for me to analyze a statement and get to the root of what’s true or false about it. I’m less likely to be taken in by propaganda and fake news.

But there’s a downside. I’m too critical of other people, including other Christians.

I’ve always found it challenging to appreciate and love certain believers. Especially the difficult or immature ones. The ones who’ve been saved for forty years or more and yet have grown so little.

God began convicting me of my need to love even them. He began teaching me and helping me to do it better.

The challenge

Ever since Trump’s rise to power in 2016, I’ve had a hard time coming to terms with the reality that some of the friends I’ve known and loved for decades are on the opposite side of the fence from me. I have a hard time understanding how they can believe the things they do about him.

My natural response would be to pull away from them. Or fight and argue, with the mental attitude that they have to see things my way or they’re bad people. In other words, follow the world’s strategies for dealing with conflict.

Several years ago, I was listening to a program on NPR (National Public Radio) shortly before Thanksgiving. A caller was expressing her dread of sitting down to the holiday meal with her extended family, since different members identified with different parts of the political spectrum. But what could be more interesting or more important to talk about than politics?

She knew from past experience that those who disagreed with her would never be willing to accept the truth when she presented it, and of course she’d never stoop so low as to agree with their faulty view of the world. The entire time was likely to be spent arguing, with increasing hostility and without any possibility of resolving anything.

The host of the show sympathized with the caller. She couldn’t imagine any other way to handle the situation.

God has been working in me for many years now to love others better, which includes changing my natural response to conflict. The response illustrated by the NPR segment.

I’m not supposed to regard a fellow believer from a worldly point of view anymore, but as a new creation (2 Corinthians 5:16-17).

God's ways are not the world’s ways (Isaiah 55:8). He “is kind to the ungrateful and wicked” (Luke 6:35)!

One time, as I arrived at a relative’s wedding, I immediately (and unexpectedly) ran into several guests who were gay or trans. Instant discomfort. What should I say? What should I do? The Holy Spirit soon reminded me that His fruit is kindness and gentleness (Galatians 5:22-23).

God's ways are not our ways and His thoughts are not our thoughts. But our relationship with Him includes growing in our knowledge of His ways and His thoughts. And in our ability to imitate Him.

So how am I supposed to deal with those believers who take a stand on Trump that’s completely opposed to mine? It wouldn’t hurt so much, it wouldn’t be so tough if I wasn’t firmly convinced by God’s Word and by the Holy Spirit within me that my understanding is the one most in line with His character. Unfortunately, believers on the other side are just as convinced of how right they are.

Preventing division 

The Lord has been teaching me for years now that I need to respond to all my brothers and sisters in Christ with love and grace. By doing so, I can contribute to greater unity among His people. Shortly after giving them the command to love one another, Jesus prayed for the oneness of His followers. How dare I splinter our unity for something as trivial as the politics of the day?

Every four years, I hear the declaration that this is the most important election in decades, maybe ever. The fate of the world hangs in the balance.

But how does one American election look in the light of eternity? It’s a very tiny drop in an infinite ocean.

What’s vastly more important in God’s eyes is Jesus’ new command, “Love one another.” Love my brothers and sisters in Christ in spite of their flaws. Love them even if they seem to be following the wrong path. Love will have a greater impact for eternity than any laws we can pass (especially when they can be changed or overturned so easily).

Does this mean that I never correct an error in other believers’ thinking? No. But that’s not where He usually leads.

It means I need to be “quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry” (James 1:19). Quick to listen to the other person and to the prompting of the Holy Spirit. Slow to correct my opponent.

Several years ago, a Christian who I’d always found annoying was complaining to me about another believer. She’d asked the woman to do something for her that could benefit both of them. The other believer said no.

My initial internal response: Here we go again. Once again, instead of acting like a mature woman in Christ, this lady is griping and gossiping about a good friend of mine. I just wanted to put her in her place as firmly as possible.

But God was working on me. I knew that wouldn’t be right. Or loving. Or effective. I’d be betraying my own standard of “acting like a mature woman in Christ.”

I knew I couldn’t appear to agree with her either, though. She was wrong and I couldn’t affirm, even in subtle unintended ways, what she was saying and doing. I sent up a quick, desperate prayer for help. (I’ve never been good at handling sudden conflict. I need time to find the words to say.)

The Holy Spirit responded by bringing to mind an experience that I’d had recently. I was able to share it with her, identifying with her in her disappointment and frustration, but suggesting that maybe God had something better in store for her (as He did in my case) when our mutual friend turned down her request.

When it comes to Trump, during the last ten years I’ve stumbled over how to deal with the issue, but I’ve made some progress. I started out being too outspoken, too ready to fight. Most of the time now I simply don’t bring up the subject with other believers, especially if I don’t know them very well.

If someone else mentions Trump, I try to focus first on listening, as James recommends. I’m thrilled if we agree. In my natural human weakness, I need their support and encouragement and wisdom.

If we disagree, I remain silent to begin with. But if they seem to be mistaking my silence for approval, I try to be matter-of-fact in briefly stating my position. If I share more openly, it usually drives a wedge between us.

We can be friends. We can talk, and even debate, about other topics. But in this area, it’s better to agree to disagree. I’m thankful that this seems to be the unspoken policy in my church. And I’m so thankful that the Lord has been leading me for many years to the point where I can respond in a more godly way than I naturally would.

The hardest part now is handling my internal turmoil regarding the conflict and the negative feelings it generates toward my opponent. But I’m finding that the more I treat people as if I love them, the more I’m able to genuinely love them.

I never intend to state in this blog which side of the Trump issue I stand on. I won’t post any comments supporting one view or the other. It would only distract from a more important message. The message of love and unity triumphing over the division we see all around us.

 

 

 

Freedom to Move On

The loss

The text comes in as I’m getting up in the morning. Mom has breathed her last breath. She’s gone.

(I’m okay with getting the message by group text. There are many family members to notify. We knew it was coming any minute. It’s a little early in the day for a phone call, especially for those in the times zones west of me.)

No tears fall. I’ve cried them all already. The day she was diagnosed with “dementia, most likely Alzheimer’s.” As I watched her brain wasting away and her personality disintegrating. Each time she took another drastic step downward. Sitting in my rental car after saying goodbye at her bedside for the last time, before returning home a week ago.

I’ve been grieving for her for a while. 

The relief

At this point, the sense of relief is greater than the sense of loss. I’ve never been in this position before. Not sure what to expect.

The last several years have been busy and stressful for me and my siblings. Bad news about Mom’s falls and emergency room visits. Decisions to be made regarding her living situation and medical needs. Increasing difficulty in her ability to communicate. More frequent trips to see her. More frequent phone calls.

But the worst stress, the greatest trauma, was knowing that one I loved was hurting so much. Witnessing her struggles with pain and physical limitations and cognitive issues and depression and fears and obsessive thinking. She was too aware of her own losses. Yet hesitant, like many in her generation, about taking any medication that would make her feel better emotionally. Part of me just wanted her to move on to a better life, to be freed from all her troubles.

That phase has passed now. Mom is at peace. We’ll be making all those decisions that have to be made after someone dies, but that won’t be nearly as stressful as helplessly watching the continuing decline of a loved one in her nineties.

I’m ready to move on, too. To catch up on all the things I haven’t gotten done because of the extra time I’ve spent helping meet Mom’s needs. Because of the emotional energy being drained by seeing her suffering.

I don’t resent losing that time and energy. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. I’d do it for ten more years if she had that long.

But there’s a welcome sense of freedom from the responsibility and stress. Now I can move on.

The grief

Until my body reminds me that I’m mourning. I’ve experienced a significant loss. Yes, there’s great relief. But there’s also the sorrow of missing her, which will come out one way or another.

Right now it comes out, not in intense emotions, but in physical and mental fatigue. A song pops into my head. “Slow Down,” by Chuck Girard (1974). It’s an invitation to slow down, be still, and wait on the Spirit of the Lord. (Thank You, Father, for bringing this song to mind just when I need it. I haven’t thought about it for many years.)

This is a biblical concept that our busy American culture doesn’t often consider. The Israelites are told to be still in Exodus 14:14, when they’re trapped between Pharaoh’s army and the Red Sea. In Nehemiah 8:11, the Levites calm the people as they’re grieving over their sins, encouraging them to be still as they respond to the reading of the Book of the Law of Moses. While prophesying about the coming Messiah, Zechariah 2:13 calls all mankind to be still before the Lord.

Psalm 37:7 combines the ideas of being still and waiting on the Lord. Waiting on the Lord is encouraged in many of the other Psalms and in the prophets.

Every day I feel like I get more behind on all the things I want or need to do. But there it is, right there in the Bible—slow down, be still, wait. I need to hear this at this time in my life when I’m so eager to move ahead. At this time when my body is screaming at me to slow down.

The challenge

But I don’t want to slow down! I want to plunge forward, to check more and more items off of my to-do list.

Why?

As I’ve said, it’s partly because I want to catch up on the things that I’ve put on a back burner while Mom’s been wasting away. That’s the most obvious reason. And it seems fully justified.

But I think it goes deeper than that. If I slow down I’ll feel the grief. I’ve been grieving for so long, I just want it to be over with. I don’t want to deal with it anymore. I’d rather be fixing things.

I’m a problem solver. I can see all kinds of problems with my house. The dust bunnies under the bed and the grunge on the windows and the minor upgrades and repairs that I’ve been postponing. I see problems with weeds and overgrown plants in my yard. Problems with my mismatched and aging wardrobe.

Now that I have more time, I can fix all those things. Fixing things feels better than being still.

But I need to be still so that I can move ahead. Just like physical healing, emotional healing won’t happen if I’m too busy and active.

Slow down now. Have the strength to do more later. I’ve faced this lesson so many times (including here and here and here), but it’s still hard to rein in my impulse to push on. I guess I’m a slow learner.

The biggest reason for slowing down, though, comes at the end of the song. “Know that He is God.” An echo of Psalm 46:10.

My desire to solve problems, do things, be done with the grieving, to move on, is partly my desire to be my own god. To take charge of the situation. To do the things I want to do, in my way and in my timing. To see my will being done.

When I slow down, I have to listen, contemplate, and consider, not just act. Listen to what the Bible says. Listen to wise pastors and teachers. Listen to the Holy Spirit within me. Contemplate His will, His direction, as it’s revealed in His Word, through other Christians, and in my own heart. Consider the fact that many of my to-do’s are trivial in God’s eyes.

I need to slow down so that I’ll stop trying to be God.