Forgetting
I tried. I really did. Yesterday I had the day off. After the craziness that is Holy Week, with my normal Sabbath time taken over by Good Friday, and with a funeral scheduled this coming Friday, I was determined to take yesterday off and rest. Really rest. Watch a movie or two. Enjoy a leisurely time at Starbucks. Buy some half-off Easter candy.
And I did those things. Only I found I couldn't make myself do JUST those things. As I began watching a movie, I couldn't help but notice the boxes around me. There were more things to sort. So I began pulling box after box out to sort and throw away (excuse me, send to the rummage sale) things that we had accumulated for far too long. (I don't even have a player for all these cassettes!) Then I got into sorting the music we have collected over the years, and digitizing some things that hadn't made it into the Mac yet. And then...well, you get the idea. One project led to another, which led to another, which led to another...and let's just say that I slept really well last night.
God commands us to rest. It's one of his top ten. Number four, if you're keeping track. Keep the Sabbath. Have a day of rest. Work six days, rest one. It should be simple, right? Yet, it's not. I don't think I'm alone in the struggle to find a time and place to really, truly rest. To spend time with God and allow his Spirit to renew you. And yet it's the example he sets in Genesis, in the very beginning. How was God able to do that? I mean, if I were him, I'd be looking out over creation and saying things like, "You know, that leaf isn't just the right shape. Let me fix that." Or, "What was I thinking? Teenagers? How are they going to make it through that stage? Maybe I should make a few adjustments..."
But God did none of that. He rested and thereby set an example for all of us. He commands us to rest. How can he do that when I cannot?
It's because he remembers. He knows who he is. He is God. And I keep forgetting who I am. I am not God, but I act and live sometimes like I am, like the world cannot go on without me. My failure to rest indicates that, deep down, I believe I am more essential to the running of the universe than God is. I forget that I am not Him. If I would give up my delusions of my necessity, I might just be able to follow God's command to rest.
And so could you.
And I did those things. Only I found I couldn't make myself do JUST those things. As I began watching a movie, I couldn't help but notice the boxes around me. There were more things to sort. So I began pulling box after box out to sort and throw away (excuse me, send to the rummage sale) things that we had accumulated for far too long. (I don't even have a player for all these cassettes!) Then I got into sorting the music we have collected over the years, and digitizing some things that hadn't made it into the Mac yet. And then...well, you get the idea. One project led to another, which led to another, which led to another...and let's just say that I slept really well last night.
God commands us to rest. It's one of his top ten. Number four, if you're keeping track. Keep the Sabbath. Have a day of rest. Work six days, rest one. It should be simple, right? Yet, it's not. I don't think I'm alone in the struggle to find a time and place to really, truly rest. To spend time with God and allow his Spirit to renew you. And yet it's the example he sets in Genesis, in the very beginning. How was God able to do that? I mean, if I were him, I'd be looking out over creation and saying things like, "You know, that leaf isn't just the right shape. Let me fix that." Or, "What was I thinking? Teenagers? How are they going to make it through that stage? Maybe I should make a few adjustments..."
But God did none of that. He rested and thereby set an example for all of us. He commands us to rest. How can he do that when I cannot?
It's because he remembers. He knows who he is. He is God. And I keep forgetting who I am. I am not God, but I act and live sometimes like I am, like the world cannot go on without me. My failure to rest indicates that, deep down, I believe I am more essential to the running of the universe than God is. I forget that I am not Him. If I would give up my delusions of my necessity, I might just be able to follow God's command to rest.
And so could you.
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