“‘Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.’ The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.'”
Psalm 46:10-11
I come in like a frazzled mess on Saturday morning - smile forced, fists clenched. “Are you okay?” my husband asks, eyebrows raised. “Yes,” I hear my lips respond. But in my heart and mind and body, a “no” resounds. I have run myself ragged on the hamster wheel of my week, refusing to rest. I am overstimulated and exhausted, but I don’t even remember how to stop: the act of stepping off the treadmill of life feels foreign, intimidating, and uncomfortable.
And although I hate to admit it, this is not an isolated event but rather a pattern I have noticed in myself throughout motherhood. Many days, I become “machine mom" - I am simultaneously listening to a podcast, making dinner, answering a text, watching one of my kids do something “amazing,” and getting somebody else a drink. Mom’s are great at multitasking, right? 😉
But in my flurry of “productivity,” I hardly look my children in the eyes. I swirl around them, but I do not truly see them. And on top of that, I hardly acknowledge Jesus or sit with Him. And although I try to convince myself that I am “getting things done,” in reality I am feigning control - idolizing myself as the god of my life and ignoring my innate need to stop and be still. I’m a tornado of to-do lists, but I am not a peaceful presence.
This is a constant struggle, my addiction to activity. Instead of being still, I want to FILL. I want to fill the silence, fill my schedule, fill my stomach. It’s much easier to fill than to be still.
And as I’m speeding around - leaving the stench of self in my wake instead of the aroma of Christ - I begin to forget: I forget who He is. I forget who I am. I forget that He is in control. I forget that He holds me.
And the result? Fear. Fear that I will not get it all done. Fear of man. Fear of the future. Fear for my children and my family. The absence of stillness leaves me scurrying around, scared. I am a frenzied mess of fear and forgetfulness, filling my life with too many things.
In my flesh, I want to go fast, get it all done and forgo His help. But the need for speed will never lead me to where I need to be: my knees.
And so on this particular Saturday, I go on a walk at a nearby lake and force myself to sit down. It’s almost too much to bear - I cannot stand the silence. I get back up, pacing nervously…and then I try again - back to the bench - and I stay, I linger. I let myself be seen by God.
And when I still, the dust of my soul settles. God slows me and shows me what I need to know. He speaks and steadies me. He strengthens me and helps make sense out of my life. He saves me from myself.
Why do I resist so stubbornly when I find all that I need when I still myself with Him?
Jesus reminds me what I keep forgetting, these truths echoing loud in Psalm 46: “God is our refuge and strength, an ever present help in trouble” (Psalm 46:1). “The LORD Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress” (Psalm 46:7). And from His own lips: “‘Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth” (v. 6).
He helps me remember the Truth: He’s both omnipotent and intimate. He’s there - enthroned - and here - encircling me; over it all and within my very being. He is all-powerful and my “ever present” help. He has all authority AND He’s my Abba Father.
What more do I need? What have I been running around for all this time, anyways?
We must learn this skill of being still for the sake of ourselves and our marriages and our children. It will go against our wills and our world, but it is worth the fight because the stillness is where Jesus meets us. There is no substitute for being still - it might just be the most important thing we ever do.
It’s the upside down way of the Kingdom: the filling comes in the stilling. We are only fully satisfied when we choose to abide.
And so I stay on that bench by the lake, the longest I’ve sat down all week. The cotton swirls around me, the water stirs, the reeds sway, but I am still - He is reigning on high and within my heart, and all is well.
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