Just Stop

Some weeks all the blocks come tumbling down: a mission to which I have been committed is being shut down for lack of funds; the reality of death comes closer to those I love; the cracks in the institution of the Church seems to be driven deeper; the rebellions and riots around the world proliferate. I am amazed how my first interior responder question is: what do I need to do? how can I fix it? how can we rally, strategize and turn this all around?

As I tried this week to rise to all the challenges abounding, I heard myself saying: “I need to stop.” But my Martha-self, busy, anxious and troubled, resisted that Word for a while; after all, there are people to feed and soothe, causes to support, truths to tell; all of these activities seem urgent! But the Word within me kept persisting: “Just stop! Just stop and wait; just stop, wait and listen”. And I found the book of Lamentations, written in a context of shambles, all the essential blocks having tumbled down, leaving devastation, famine, grief and suffering in its wake. This book gives voice to both the pain of loss and gives direction to those who are stuck; I came to this verse:

It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.            Lam. 3:26

No rebuttals to write, no plots to over throw the regime, no strategies to get people to see things my way, no attempts to control the circumstances to shape them to my calendar and to preferences, but to wait quietly. The Word was clear; so I thought, “I will do that!” and put away my written agenda. What was lurking, however, was the interior conversation inside me full of fears, memories of old hurts and slights, disappointments, all ready to fill the silence, and re-rehearse their songs and dances of piteous need. Hardly the space for waiting quietly! My first challenge was to turn them and say, “Peace! be still!” And I needed to say it over and over again; it gets easier with practice.

I became silent– not just the silence of one whom occupies the space by herself much of the day, but choosing to offer in prayer my willingness to wait quietly, and to be open to God’s salvation in whatever shape it came. When the interior voices started their chorus, I asked them to hold on to their performance  for another time. When the e-mails of urgency zoomed into view, I decided that for right now I did not need to engage or respond, except in prayer. When information filled up the airwaves and letter box, I kept still until I knew when and if I was called on to respond. And I kept asking to have clarity of vision to see the salvation of God emerge.

I am living into this process now, but God speaks into my silence. Calvin tells us the Nature is the second book of the revelation of God, and holding to my heart the verse from Lamentations, I notice in my garden, that despite winter, there are azalea and camellia blossoms in bloom, that the rain has brought energy to the ornamental plums, and that my again dog still perks up when in the company of someone he loves or food! People share their treasures in wisdom spoken, poems shared or perspectives lined out. Music fills the silence with Mendelssohn’s “Lift Thine Eyes.” or Bach’s “Sheep May Safely Graze,” divine messages of God’s Presence and care. And my soul is restored for the waiting.

My verse from Lamentations follows the more familiar ones in verses above:

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, God’s mercies never come to an end, they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” vv. 22,23

So I cease for this season from my frantic fixing, and practice waiting quietly for the next Word, the one that says “Here is your next act of mercy or kindness; here is the message you must share; here is the place for you to stand in solidarity or alone.” I am practicing trusting the morning mercies that come to me and to those I love, both person and systems, and look for God’s salvation in this moment.