How do you tell a restless spirit to be still?
It isn’t easy, that’s for sure. Especially with all of the distractions that can compete for one’s attention in today’s technology-centered world: text messages, Facebook notifications, tweets, advertisements, animated billboards, smart phone apps, iPods, iPads, YouTube, The list goes on and on.
It can be so easy to lose focus. Lately I wonder, however, if I even have a focus to lose in the first place.
See, I’ve been restless. Really restless. And I don’t know why. Part of me will want to just be still and breathe, while the other part of me won’t shut down, always looking for something else to do and somewhere else to go, devouring the distractions like a hungry dog emptying its food dish.
When I’m busy or stressed, I long for stillness, silence, and room to just breathe, but when the opportunity comes, it drives me mad and I once again, against my own will, seek the distractions.
I was thinking about all this the other day and wondering why it is so and what it would be like to fully embrace and carry out God’s command in Psalm 46 to, “Be still and know that I am God.” It sounds so easy, so simple, if you think of it in physical terms. But, again, how do you get a restless spirit to be still?
I sometimes envy the simplicity that encompasses a Buddhist’s lifestyle. If I wasn’t a Christian, I think I could easily embrace Buddhism.
G.R. Lewis, developer of a Buddhist website, buddhistfaith.tripod.com, explains the idea of a simple lifestyle:
“Simplicity of life impels us to want or possess fewer things, appreciating more of what we have and using what we possess in the service of others. When we have fewer distractions in our lives then we can concentrate more in our inner realm and truly live the Buddha Dharma and manifest the nembutsu. At its core, simplicity is the living practice of reality as it is.”
I looked around my room after reading this and tried to imagine what it would be like to own less things, less distractions. I considered my various possessions and whether or not I could get along without each of them. I concluded that most of the stuff in my room is just that: stuff. And none of it is actually stuff that I need.
I recently went on a road trip with some friends to the Jersey shore and we stayed with a family down there who none of us had ever met, but we were connected with through some mutual friends. They were very welcoming and hospitable, and even though they live in a very small home, they shared with us what little space they have, the two girls squeezing into their parents room so that we could stay in theirs.
Looking around their small home, I noticed that there wasn’t any clutter. They didn’t have much stuff, and they seemed happy. The father said that when they moved into the tiny house, which had been converted from an old chicken slaughter house, they came from a three-story house and had to store most of their belongings in a trailer out front. He said that they quickly learned how much they really didn’t need and could do without.
I think this is one of the secrets to obtaining peace and happiness: learning to do without and genuinely appreciating what you do have. Always wanting more and filling one’s time and space with more things and pointless activities just makes a person more restless.
Of course, sometimes we can’t control our environments, and what goes on around us. No matter how hard we try to escape, the distractions will always be there. That’s life. It’s not always easy. However, it’s not always impossible either.
The account of when Jesus calmed the storm comes to mind, and I wonder if the same God who stilled the waves could still my soul as well. Of course he can. I just need to let him.
What about you? Do you ever feel restless and unable to just be still, knowing that He is God? Or am I the only one? Maybe if we were to let God calm our hearts the way He did the storm, we would find the peace that we long for.
The Storm
(A poem I wrote a couple years ago)
I can just feel the waves all around me
Tossing the boat up and down
And I can see Him sleeping in the corner
Unaware that we’re about to drown
And I can hear myself yell
Where are You now
In the middle of the storm
Where are You now
When I need you the most
Why do You sleep
Don’t You even care
I can just see Him stand and look at me
With eyes that see in my soul
And I can hear Him rebuke the wind and waves
As the storm turns to a quiet calm
And I hear Him say to me
Where’s your faith now
In the middle of the storm
Where’s your faith now
When you need it the most
Why do you fear
Don’t you know I’m here
And I know He’s here
In the middle of the storm
Tossing the boat up and down
And I can see Him sleeping in the corner
Unaware that we’re about to drown
And I can hear myself yell
Where are You now
In the middle of the storm
Where are You now
When I need you the most
Why do You sleep
Don’t You even care
I can just see Him stand and look at me
With eyes that see in my soul
And I can hear Him rebuke the wind and waves
As the storm turns to a quiet calm
And I hear Him say to me
Where’s your faith now
In the middle of the storm
Where’s your faith now
When you need it the most
Why do you fear
Don’t you know I’m here
And I know He’s here
In the middle of the storm
that's the beauty of the cross. It's there that we die, and He lives in us. I know a Buddhist, and he's strangely selfish. Buddhism sounds appealing, but it's a self-centered appeal: "we can concentrate on our inner realm.
ReplyDeleteThe beauty of the cross (ironically) is the death of self. This isn't the beating up of self, rather, it is the association of my life with Christ's. "He died for all, so all died" That's not beauty but tragedy. The beauty is what it accomplished. The beauty is that we can know (in part), but one day be fully known. The beauty is in the life we live by faith in the Son of God who gave himself for us. The beauty is in the radical call to follow Jesus, even die for Him.
I think you're on to something. Thanks for sharing.