I’m learning to be water.
Stillness… When I was younger, that word sounded terribly boring to me—stagnant, lackluster, lacking imagination or initiative.
I couldn’t have been further from the truth!
In the midst of a busy season, when stress levels were high, I read from the Psalms. “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10) I already know that He is God, I thought to myself, so what’s this deal with “being still?”
I am no stranger to clutter—all kinds of clutter. There is the surprises-that-life-throws-at-me kind of clutter—the kind I’m usually unprepared for. There is day-to-day clutter in dealing with mundane details of life. Then there is clutter that comes from taking on too much and packing my day too tight till it bursts at the seams.
Clutter cuts away time for stillness.
Do we constantly “roll” from one thing to another, from one person to another, from one event to another, leaving little or no time for stillness?
We face the danger of being stretched a mile wide but becoming just an inch deep.
And because of the constant “rolling” nothing sticks. We move from one thing to the next without fully appreciating or absorbing everything an experience or person has to offer.
There is a need for stillness in our lives. That is why it is a command. Be still and know that I am God.
Stillness is something that doesn’t just happen—it needs to be cultivated. Even in the midst of turmoil. It does not come from a lack of troubles. It comes from being consistently connected with God through the ups and downs of life.
Peace is knowing calm in the midst of the storm. Standing still, standing calm, just standing, without fidgeting or moving.
Not because of self-assurance, or confidence, or because I’ve done the research and I know what to do best… But simply because He is God.
Now think of the image of a still lake. Its waters are calm. Its surface, pristine and pure. And it perfectly captures and reflects everything above and around it, painting a beautiful picture of perfect symmetry, of completion, of two halves making a whole…
“A lake that is noisy cannot reflect anything“ says Robert Adams.
Constant churning whips water into that opaque turbulence where everything is violently tossed together. No chance for the yucky bits to be separated out. No chance for muck to settle. No chance for water to just be water–clear, pure, transparent. And no chance to reflect anything.
So, I’m learning to be still water. The way it is meant to be–still, clear, pure, reflecting.
In the stillness, I can listen and think. In the stillness, what I see and hear goes deep. In the stillness, I long for my life to reflect my Creator accurately to those around me.
~shini abraham, ©2014, duco divina – contemplative doodling
Recent Comments