Catherine Claire, A Perfect Restlessness

We are restless, until we find our rest in Thee--- St. Augustine

I just got my photos developed from an early summer vacation. No denying it was wonderful, but even flipping through the snapshots wears me out: the exploring, the snorkeling, the dancing, the shopping, the site-seeing, the sailing—not to mention all the working that it took for me to be able to take a week off for this “rest.” I know what you’re thinking, “poor baby.”

 Nonetheless, I’m reminded of an old man’s reflections on the influx of weekend city dwellers to the placid waters near his country river flat:

“On those weekends the river is disquieted from morning to night by people resting from their work. This resting involves traveling at great speed, first on the road and then on the river. The people are in an emergency to relax. Their eyes are hungry for scenes of nature. They go very fast in their boats. They stir the river like a spoon in a coffee cup. … [The fishermen] can’t fish in one place for fear that there are more fish in another place. For rest, they have a perfect restlessness.”[1]

 A perfect restlessness. “Oh God,” I think, “forgive me for how I run from true rest.”

 What does it cost us to be still? It costs us to leave behind our gods and our addictions---the crackberry (as my friends like to call their PDA’s), the continual hum of talk-shows and news-shows, of sit-coms and even sometimes sermons, the slavery to more, to better, to harder, to faster. In the stillness, in the quiet, it is hard to avoid the restlessness of our souls. And the enemy knows that in the stillness, it is even harder to avoid the alluring call of our Savior to come and enter His rest.

 So allow me to offer you an invitation and a challenge.

 The invitation (for you and for me) is to be still. Yes, you have my permission to stop what you are doing and just be still. I don’t actually think you or I can do it (without practice) for more than ten minutes without falling asleep. But nonetheless, I want to issue the invitation.

 Next, the challenge. Take any God-given pleasure in your day and do this: anticipate it, be present and attentive in the experience of it, and then relish it through recall and retelling afterward. I know it sounds a little Oprah-ish, but trust me the pattern is throughout the Psalms, (and if it sounds a little like Oprah, it’s only because she rips off all of God’s best stuff, waters it down for the masses, and then markets it.)

 This is what I think will happen. In your stillness, you will meet with God. He may visit you with conviction. He may visit you with comfort. He may visit you with commission. But I believe if you are still and you are open to Him that He will come.

 As for the challenge, I believe that it not only has the potential of making you a better lover —of your mate, nature, art, your dog, you name it—but it also has the potential of making you a better worshiper, a better lover of God. For as we learn to enjoy any God-given thing we learn a little about how to enjoy God himself—the source of all good things. We learn how to long for Him, to be attentive to Him, to be thankful and in awe for how we’ve seen Him show up.

 So be still for a moment. Anticipate, luxuriate, relish His good gifts and the giver Himself and exchange a perfect restlessness for His perfect rest.

 © Catherine Claire, 2005.

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[1] Berry, Wendell. Jayber Crow, CounterPoint; NY, NY, pp. 331-332.

 

Comments

[Charlie Babcock]

The perfect challenge as my wife and I prepare our family for our vacation next week. Packing/planning over the next couple of days, driving 8 hours with a 4 and 2 year old, etc... Thanks

[Serven]

Thanks for the challenge, and the Jayber quote. The last chapter in that book is the most perfect last chapter in any.

But as to resting, I need to get to it...