Blogs are cool. I get to write what’s going on in my head and have five people read my thoughts. It’s like a voluntary submission of a diary minus the teenage angst that comes with the knowledge that someone has read my thoughts.
Sometimes I’ll even get someone who tells me they like my writing. When that happens I’m filled with such validation I think I’m on my way to the Pulitzer Prize. Then I re-read what I’ve written and I come back down to earth.
Other times, someone will even request that I write another post.
Actually, only one person has ever done that. Macklin.
And when he does, it feels great – akin to that knowledge that you’re needed.
But when I follow with the question: “what do you want me to write about?” and I begin rubbing my hands together, preparing for the quick exercise in finger-dexterity, it’s pretty humbling to have him return with “the value of solitude” and realize I have nothing to say.
Because blogs are cool. But the blogosphere almost demands that you enter with the promise to provide self help advice to your “readers” with every anecdotal post. And I have no anecdote that demonstrates the refreshing power of “creating personal time.” I can’t rattle off Bible verses or zen-inspired quotes from famous personalities and then explain how I found rest, peace, and life in submitting my will their directions.
Because I’m a TrackAthleteRecCenterEmployeeRA with a full class schedule who refuses to slow down, say ‘no’, and pursue peace like I always say I desire.
I say yes a lot.And I over commit.And I don’t ask for help.And I get stressed.And I get anxious.And I don’t deal with it.
Because it’s hard for me to slow down.
And I’m tired. I’m just tired from life.
If that’ll suffice for an anecdote, there you have it. I’m tired because I refuse to seek true rest.
I can still tell you that Jesus’ biggest command was “don’t be afraid.” I can tell you he tells us not to be anxious. I can tell you he tells us to seek peace. I can tell you that I interpret all that to mean that life is more than the trivialities, that Jesus feeds us more abundantly than the birds and clothes us more beautifully than the lilies, and we’re supposed to find rest in that.
But I can also tell you that I haven’t found that rest. I don’t experience it and consequently, I can’t meet Macklin’s request to write about it.
I can only write from the other side. And from the other side I implore you to seek rest with all your might, to struggle for peace, and in it, find that it’s not a struggle at all. To do otherwise is to be like me, and I can promise that’s not where you ought to find yourself in this life.
So find rest friends. I believe it’s out there. And when you find it, share the map. God know’s I could use it.