Tuesday, October 1, 2013
the loud stillness of fall
at 5:02 AM
Can you hear it, the loud stillness of fall?
It's beautiful and alarming all at once.
It signals the beginning of things because, to me, fall is the start of the new year. With every crunch of leaves and slam of the coffeeshop door, I hear, "It's time. Time to start doing. Making things happen. Are you doing everything in your power to make your dreams come true?"
It's like all those inspiring quotes you see everywhere. On the Internet. In books. On bumper stickers. Inspiring words on Being All You Can Be and Achieving Your Dreams and Climbing That Mountain. A slice of wisdom from Einstein here, a lovely thought from the Buddha there.
I'm a sucker for those go-get-em quotes. I write them in my journal, I frame them, I consider getting them tattooed somewhere (just kidding, Mom.)
But sometimes I get overwhelmed. My mind is so full of these voices saying "Go! Do!" that I forget the much quiter voice saying, "Be still and know..."
My mind is filled with so much inspiration that I'm getting filled with words of Eleanor Roosevelt instead of words of God. And I have a feeling I'm not the only one.
Make yourself a really, really big mug of chai. Look at your planner, calendar, to-do list, and give it all to Jesus. Pour all your passion and energy into Him, and He promises that the rest will follow.
There is time for hard work and doing, but only if we are first finding Him in the still and the quiet.
You are more than your to-do list. You are more than your dreams.
Can I say this? You are more than your calling.
Frankly, I'm sick of getting inspired. I'm ready to be empowered.
Because, as I was reminded by a handsome bearded man I know, at the end of the day it's not about what we accomplish. It's about finding our identity in Christ and Christ alone. (I don't know about you, but the Christ alone is the hard part for me.)
Give yourself a break. Relax. The world's not going to end if you don't accomplish xyz, no matter what the bumper stickers tell you.
I've left my porch door open for the better part of the afternoon. It let a couple bugs in, but the sounds of autumn are now strung through my apartment. The crack of branches, the impossibly high note of the sparrows. And I'm not trying to drown them out anymore. Because now instead of chaos, they whisper, "peace" and "be still."
That, anyway, is what I'm hearing.