And it is in the crisp coolness that i take a moment to reflect. Today is Sabbath. Today is a day to both gather as well as stimulate my senses. Not a day for rested-up lethargy but for an active pursuit of delight. But it is on this day that I take a breath. And look back on the marathon-sprint that has enveloped the last week weeks. Or few months. Depending on how you look at things.
It has been quite the ride. And today is especially important because it feels like a hinge-point, an axis of some kind. Speaking of breath, it’s something that I have felt without as of late. Life has been moving too quickly. Moving at honest, earnest speed, but I haven't felt able to keep up. Yesterday, I was able to experience the real-life dream of a day-long retreat of silence. Tucked into trails, sought by silence, left-alone in the forest. And it was the best. I left, my inner-life refreshed. However, I have been learning this year that the discipline of retreat is often not an act in which we get instant relief. It is in the days, weeks or months later that I recognize the lasting rest and inner-work that God began in the time before. I wonder how long my spirit actually takes to catch up to me. Or perhaps it’s the other way around.
But, today. It is Sabbath. I’m listening to my favorite music ( bon iver, gregory alan isakov, novo amor) and taking some time to reflect. I’ve heard recently that the difference between Sabbath and Retreating in Silence is that Sabbath affects our outer life whereas Retreat affects our inner life. It’s as if our bodies need a different type of active rest/ work / play than our minds. Sabbath / Retreat perhaps is a necessary way to not only rest, but to recalibrate our selves, our souls, our minds and our hearts. In the ways that are necessary. Jesus was so good at taking time in solitude with His Father. Yet I’m struck each time I’m in the gospels by how his “rest” always seems to be sandwiched up against deep demand. Moving from Solitude to significant healings, from needy crowds to silence, from retreat to calming his disciple’s fears on the lake. From rest to demand, from demand to rest. Is there much of an in-between?
In the last few months, I’ve wondered the very same. Starting on-campus work this semester has begun with a bang, to say the least. Things have been crazy! And so good! I’ve learned of a new capacity ( or lack of capacity ) for developing new relationships with college students, learning to listen well, scheduling, and practicing praying without ceasing in a very new yet very familiar place. It’s been an all-of-my-many-hands on deck at-all-times few weeks. And it has been good. And stretching. And a lot. But I actually feel like I’m learning. Most days. Both in how to do my job, but also how to be a more full disciple of Jesus myself. This season has already been one in which I’ve found myself asking co-workers and students so many questions.
Yet, the most important questions I have found myself asking have actually been to Jesus himself. Many days I have felt of the loop in this new job, many days navigating this newness. Then there are the odd, pleasant surprises mixed in, those in which I notice that I am part of something significant God is doing. Which is why I love this sometimes-ambiguous-role of helping students know God. The beauty that we are actually invited to join Him in in what He is doing. I think the most beautiful thing is when God allows us to do this, through having our perspectives corrected. When we can see humans as He does. When we can truly bless others. When we can receive his compassion for injustice, when we can recognize his gentle draw of both patience and urgency in the day-to-day. I have found myself many days asking a question I’ve found important to do life that draws close to God: “Jesus, what do you want to do today?” and “How can I be part of that?”
Today I am asking that very question. As I rest. As I read. As I bike. As I help Holl move into our future apartment. As I rest, in anticipation for the demand. As I learn to let Jesus give me rest in the ways that He knows I need.
And I hope you can too.