Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up on wings like eagles. They will walk and not grow weary, run and shall not faint. Is. 40:31
Be still and know He is God. Ps. 46:10
This vision is for a future time. It describes the end, and it will be fulfilled. If it seems slow in coming, wait patiently, for it will surely take place. It will not be delayed. Hab 2:3
Be still in the presence of the LORD, and wait patiently for him to act. Ps. 37:7
It's no coincidence that so often the Lord commands us to not only to wait, but to be still while we are waiting. It's easy to wait when you've got something to do. It's a much harder edict when you have nothing to do.
Be still my soul. Be still.
So. In an information age of instant everything, fast food, the literal world at our fingertips, how do you wait patiently upon the Lord and be still while you do it? Look around... everytime there is a 30 second pause in our lives - we're on our phones, making small talk, looking for something to do other than nothing.
I think it begins with the acknowledgment that we are a Priesthood of Believers and as Priests, we carry His presence and because of the cross, have direct passage to Him. Therefore, where ever we are, is where we have access to where He is. When you think of it that way, we don't really have a choice. Our still moments with nothing to do have to turn into still moments with no other choice BUT to be still in His presence. He's there...the Holy High King and Jewel of Heaven...in the room. Sure, He's the Lord and can announce His presence anyway He chooses, but often, it's in the stillness, while we wait, that He elects to manifest His presence.
Shoes come off - head bows...the Holy-ness and heresy of the moment kicks in:
He's in the room, people...and I'm on my phone.
How often do we miss His presence? Do we dare think we're better than even the half brother James who LIVED with the Presence-Incarnate and didn't even see it? It's possible to miss it - we get busy, we lose the art of quieting ourselves - I've missed it an innumerable amount of times myself, but in these days, when I'm having to be a bit more still - and wait - and be still - and wait - He's teaching me to tune my ears to the susurration of heaven so I don't miss Him - even in the quiet - even when I struggle to hear. He's got things He wants to say in these days and is beckoning me to a deeper stillness: to learn the art of being desperate to embrace the reticence so I can really hear His heart.
Be still my ransacked heart - He's here.
Wait for it and wait for it and wait for it and above all - get still. The presence of the Most High is in the room.
The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.
I've been reminded recently of how weighty our words really are. They have the power to bring life, or death. We can sear the heart, or mend the soul. Often times, when the words come flying, we find ourselves wanting to stuff them back in our wagging mouths when we see the wound open in the receiver. There are also those times when the words bring hope - and for a fleeting moment, you can see the fog lift in their eyes. Words are powerful. In song, they can connect hearts with the Creator. In an argument, they can fracture that same heart. Contradictory? No kidding. (See James 3).
Yesterday, I saw the vocal therapist. She explained a portion of my therapy like this: in a healthy voice, you are given a proverbial 100 "chips" a day. It is your job to decide how they are "spent". (No, this is not a gambling story). :) Singing, talking, vocalizing, laughing, etc...you get 100. In my case, for this season, I've got 50 a day. After my vocal pathology and vocal therapy 3xs/day, that leaves me with 20 a day.
Needless to say, I've been thinking a lot about the power of words and how to pick and choose them wisely.
The Lord reminded me of this verse in Proverbs and how I need to be wise, not reckless with my words - purposeful, not a constant stream of noise, whether in a season of vocal therapy or not.
It would be my heart that my 20 chips would be well spent. Words that bless (Psalm 19:14), words that bring life (Proverbs 18:21), words that come slowly and with room to hear (James 1:19). On purpose, valuable, and with a sense of mission.
So... how will you spend your chips today?
Make them count. Every. Last. One.
There they are. A huge knot in the drawer. Every time you open it, you see it. All the beauty wrapped around each other - knots so tight it seems impenetrable. The truth is, you're not really sure how they got that way. One day you wore one, and carefully lay it back in it's spot at the day's end. The next day, life called and you hurriedly threw that day's adornment into the drawer. Fast forward a week and you've got a mess. You see it. It's got more knots than you can believe. I'll figure it out it later.
So it is with our lives. At first, we've got a system figured out. This is what I'll do. This is how I'll operate. I will file life in it's proverbial place and the beauty will live on. It will only hurt this long, it will only affect me this much. But soon, the necklaces get tangled. Life gets messy. All of life's beauty wrapped around in a knot. You wake up, look in the mirror and think... how did this happen? I'll figure it out later.
Are they not still necklaces? Is life not still beautiful? Yes.
Can they fully function as necklaces in a knot? Can our hearts truly heal all wound up? No.
To hold it in your hands seems weighty - this is going to take time, and patience, and effort and purposeful thinking to untangle. I work at it with my fingers - seeing all the tangled mess of necklaces...or is it my heart?
So I flop to the floor, necklaces in hand, and begin the painstaking process of untangling. My fingers fly and my mind races. The tangled up places in me, still tightly wound are beginning to unravel. Sometimes the best thing we can do is take one thing at a time, work with it until it's done, and begin with the next mess. One necklace, one mess at a time.
The knots are unraveling. Pieces are falling free.
The beautiful mess, ransacked again.
Tara is Greg's girl, mom to two sons of thunder, a hunger fighter, big dreamer and worship pastor at seacoast church.