Joy, when the sorrow aches, when you feel alone and you see no escape.
Hope, when the darkness falls, when your way is lost and your strength is gone.
Don't let your life be small. And let God's grace carry you on.
To live. To love. And to Belong.
You live. You love. And You Belong.
We live. We love. And We Belong.
May we walk with each other as we travel with each other down the road.
We were blessed for the Journey from the start.
(NYC 2014 Theme Song)
I'm slightly biased of course, but looking at the journey of the last several years I feel a sense of accomplishment and profound growth. The summer of 2011 was the summer of Transition. The summer of 2012 was for Restoration. And the summer of 2013 was the summer of Opportunity. And what's great about all of it is that I was being taught obedience each time, but in very distinct ways.
But when I think about this summer, I feel this sense of unchanging stillness. It's not because I'm not traveling or on the go to exotic places or living out of a suitcase for weeks upon weeks. It's not even about feeling discontent. But, I feel this urgency to just be still. I think we often forget that being still is being obedient. And in being still, there is a growth that happens. In the urgency to stay put, I keep being reminded, through various avenues, that stillness can often mean something else. To wait. To stop and listen. To proceed with caution. To be patient. In the stillness there is revelation.
I'm still in the middle of "being still". And it's hard. Even though being still will cause growth, for me I fear it will lead to stagnancy. I think stillness opens up an opportunity to learn how to move forward while simultaneously being still. It's a constant struggle between wanting to run as fast as I can forward, but remembering that this particular part of the journey can't be rushed. We all know that if we sprint the first 5 miles of a marathon, the last 21.6 miles will be awful. And probably the first 5 miles as well. But, you cannot rush any part of the marathon journey or else the finish line is painful or maybe even nonexistent. For me, when I run a marathon, I want to feel every step and every deep breath, because I know what work and effort goes into it. Rushing through any part of the training or actual run of the marathon journey makes the finish less significant to me.
It's so easy to understand the metaphor of running a marathon and viewing it as a journey. It's easy to understand why rushing through any part of the marathon as a journey, would be a bad idea. But when we think of life as a marathon, it's harder to put the brakes on and slow down to appreciate every painful, joyful, happy, and sad step or breath. And I guess that's where I am right now. I guess that's why God is working so intently in my life to k e e p m e s t i l l. Because in my stillness, I don't rush. I stop and listen. I appreciate the journey of each step. Each milestone and each experience. But I struggle allowing God to do His work in me, and not being overcome with fear of stagnation within the process. I do have appreciation for being still and slowing down. However, I think I struggle to appreciate the silence of being still. I struggle with recognizing that moving forward can still happen even when I'm still.
So when there is no sense of direction given to you, consider it a blessing - one where God is asking you to be still. He is teaching you patience and how to slow down to hear the directions you're seeking. The journey is filled with times to move and times to slow down. Don't rush through any of it. But don't let your life be small, either. Being still is also taking a risk.
