waters of rest

I enjoy asking questions. I enjoy listening to what others say in response to those questions.

I’ve never met any person who didn’t want to talk about themselves or express their opinion when given the chance. Asking questions and listening to people gives me a little window into their soul and about who they are. Generally, I find that people will lean in and engage with you a little more deeply when you ask them about their life, interests, or thoughts.

I find myself so often shoving, pushing, maneuvering to a place where I can talk about me. I have this deep yearning and need for someone to hear what I might have to say; and then give a damn about it. We really do like to be heard. Right? Do you? I dang sure do. I love to talk about me, talk about I, talk about number one.

The world around us seems to always be talking. And recently talking louder and louder. Both literally as well as digitally; screaming to be seen, noticed, or liked by what I put out there in my latest post. I post it and then sit back and see how all the world would respond. I mean, the whole world had been on edge waiting to see what I might post next, right?

We are a people fighting to be heard. We are always on the lookout for people who want to just listen to what we might have to say.

I was in a place last week with about 100 people. It started out with everyone being invited to go to this big room to enjoy ice cream and hang out.

The group inside started out with about 4-6 people and we were having some good, rich conversations. Then more people came in and started having conversations. Then there were 15 groups of people having conversations. With every group that came in, I noticed we started talking louder to be heard. In turn, they talked louder to be heard.

It got to the point where someone would say something and I would respond, “Sorry, what? I couldn’t hear what you said.” Then they repeated what they said even louder, and my next reply felt to me like I was having to basically yell back to be heard. And I declared, “Ok. This is ridiculous. I’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

I had become so frazzled and anxious by everything about the situation that I just walked out and left. I would compare it to being in a small store with terrible acoustics and a thousand crying babies. My heart was racing. I walked out the back door which led onto a big wooden deck with several rocking chairs and sat down. The deck overlooked the North Georgia mountains. The sky was full of stars and clear. There was a cool breeze. I took a breath.  I could breathe again. My heart rate slowed. My anxiety faded. Silence. Stillness. And it was good. It was very good.

You, Jesus, are the Good Shepherd.

You lead me into a spacious place.

You make me lie down in green pastures.

You lead me beside quiet waters…the gentle waters of rest.

You refresh my soul.