Kitchen Table Wisdom

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Are you tired today?

Have you been asking yourself: When is the last time I felt rested?

Not when did I last sleep well or have a day with nothing on the calendar. I mean really rested.

I know I have.

And the answer has left me feeling a little unsettled.

I am no longer a full-time pastor. I serve three-quarter time now. You would think I would have more time.

But somehow the space fills.

There is always something to be done, someone I could check on, something that needs my attention.

And I’m tired.

Sometimes I am busy before my feet ever hit the floor. My mind is already moving through the day ahead. Even when I am resting, my mind drifts toward what I could be—should be—doing.

And somewhere in there, I think about prayer.

I should pray more.

And that’s the problem.

Without giving it any more thought, I have added prayer to my to-do list and it becomes just one more thing I need to be doing.

I’ve been reading a book by the Rev. Sharon Seyfarth Garner, and she offers one of the simplest definitions of prayer I have ever heard. She describes prayer as “being with God on purpose.”

Being with God on purpose.

I began carrying those words around with me.

At first, I thought I knew what they meant.

Years ago, before I became a pastor, one of the churches I served had a little prayer room.

I spent a lot of time there.

It was a place where I rested, but it was also a place where I did battle.

I went there when I needed to get away for a while, to be quiet, to pray. But I also went there carrying the things I was struggling with—the decisions I needed to make, the people I was worried about, the problems I didn’t know how to solve.

Sometimes that little room was my refuge.

Sometimes it was my war room.

Spiritual warfare is work.

Maybe that’s why Garner’s words have stayed with me.

Being with God on purpose.

As I thought about that little prayer room, I suddenly realized something.

I can be with God on purpose when I am resting.

But I can also be with God on purpose when I am working.

I had been thinking about prayer as something I needed to add to my day—one more thing I should be doing.

But what if being with God on purpose isn’t something I add to my day?

What if it is how I live my day?

A few weeks ago, I was asking myself another question:
What would Jesus do if he were living my day?

I wondered how Jesus would see the people I encounter. How would he respond? How would he love? What might he do differently? What would he want me to do differently?

But these words about being with God on purpose have turned that question upside down for me.

What if Jesus isn’t someone I need to imagine stepping into my day?
What if I begin by remembering that he is already here?

Maybe the question isn’t only what Jesus would do if he were living my day.
Maybe I need to ask whether I am living my day with him.

That thought sent me back to something Jesus did again and again.

He came away.

Mark tells us that after a long day of teaching and healing, Jesus got up early the next morning, while it was still dark, and went off by himself to pray. [Mark 1:35]

The work wasn’t finished.
People were still looking for him.

In fact, when Simon found him, he said, “Everyone is searching for you.”

And, oh boy, how those words sound familiar.

There is something within me that feels responsible. I have trouble letting go. Even when no one is actually asking anything of me, I can feel the pull of what I think I should be doing.

Jesus felt the pull of people who genuinely needed him.

And he still came away.

In a later chapter, when his disciples returned from doing the work Jesus had sent them to do, they were tired. So many people were coming and going that they didn’t even have time to eat.

Jesus looked at them and said, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.” [Mark 6:31]

Come away.
Rest.

I have preached those words. I have offered them to other people. But lately I have had to admit something to myself.

I have not been taking my rest.

Maybe that’s why I noticed what happened next.

The disciples tried to come away.
They got into the boat with Jesus and headed toward a quiet place.
And everything was interrupted.

The crowd saw them leaving, figured out where they were going, and reached the quiet place before they did.

So much for rest.
Sometimes you try to step away and life follows you.

But this time, as I read the story, I noticed something I had overlooked.
Jesus was with them.

Their quiet had been interrupted. There were people everywhere. Eventually there were thousands of hungry people who needed to be fed.

But the disciples weren’t handling the interruption alone.
Jesus was there.
They worked with him.

And then, when the meal was over, Jesus sent them away again.

He put the disciples into the boat and sent them on ahead.

There was still work to do.
The crowd was still there.
He dismissed them and stayed behind.
Jesus finished the work.

I keep thinking about that.

I haven’t forgotten how to rest.
I have forgotten how to let Jesus help with the work.

Maybe somewhere along the way I began to believe that being responsible meant continuing to hold on until everything was finished.

But everything is never finished.

So, perhaps being with God on purpose means something different to me today than it did yesterday.

I still need the quiet. I still need places where I can come away and simply be with God. But I also need to learn to recognize God when I walk out the door.

Not only must I recognize Him in the quiet.
I must recognize Him in the interruption.
Recognize Him in the work.

Trusting God enough to lead me from the work when it is time to rest.

Maybe rest won’t always look like sitting quietly in a prayer room.

Sometimes, for me, it might mean picking up a paintbrush and letting watercolor move across a piece of paper while a thought works itself out.

Sometimes it might mean going for a walk.

For someone else, maybe it’s putting your hands in the soil of a garden. What looks like work to one person can be rest for another.

Perhaps I have been too busy trying to figure out how to rest to notice the places where rest is already finding me.

Yesterday, while I was trying to sort through all of this, I finally stopped.

I went for a walk.

I didn’t go because I had figured everything out, or the work was finished.

I went because it was time to come away.

Maybe being with God on purpose isn’t another thing I need to add to my day.
Maybe it is learning to live my day aware that God is already there.

In the quiet.
In the interruption.
In the work.
In the rest.

Trusting God enough to come away with Him.

I’m still learning.

But yesterday, I went for a walk.

And that was enough.

Cathy D.