rest enough

As I entered the season of Lent, I prayed for the opportunity to slow down and rest. Anxious over finances, school, and plans for the future, I looked forward to the period of the liturgical calendar in which I could reorient my daily rhythms and seek to find contentment in the patterns of my life right now.

My soul finds rest in God alone.

I meditated on the words of Psalm 62: my soul finds rest.

I sought that rest in many forms – I turned off my Netflix, I stopped tweaking my resume, I pulled back from Twitter, and I drew in close friends. But the unexpected fast, the outlet that I’d thought would serve as my sanctuary, was a hiatus from blogging.

After forty-seven days, my fingers itch to type again. I compose most of my writing in my head – oftentimes as I stand at the wooden workbench, kneading large tufts of dough. Occasionally I jot notes on any form of paper available –a flour dusted deli sheet or a sticky section of parchment – and tuck the notes into my breast pocket to tease out once in front of my computer. For a month and a half, I collected these notes, I made memos on my phone, I planned posts in my mind, and today I finally find myself typing from a place of rest I’ve not written from in months.

My soul finds rest in God alone.

In God alone.

But as I meditated on these words, my internal doubt pushed back:

Is God alone enough?

My soul finds joy in kneading dough, my heart is filled by communion with friends, my mind is cleared when writing, but only when I’m also filled with the peace that comes from rest.

In God alone?

Despite my love for my job, my excitement for this blog, my passion for school, the love of my friends, I constantly meditate on the sacrifices of this life. The early hours wear me down, the financial strain brings a lot of stress, the classes challenge my assumptions, the lack of weekends keeps me from friends.

My soul finds rest in God alone.

But is that rest enough to energize me when my alarm buzzes at three in the morning?

My soul finds rest in God alone.

But is that rest enough to comfort me when the bills come in?

My soul finds rest in God alone.

But does that rest ease my longing for community when I spend so much time alone?

My soul finds rest in God alone.

But does that rest satisfy me in my singleness?

My soul finds rest in God alone.

But will that rest fulfill me whether or not I ever marry? Whether or not I become a mother? Will that rest bring me comfort when my community is transient, when friends move away? Will that rest be enough to ground me if I travel the country or the globe? Will that rest be enough adventure if I choose to call this one city my home?

I’ve emerged from Lent with a renewed commitment to my daily rhythms of life right now. I’m content to stay in my job and in my home, in my school and at my church, in this city and with these friends – a contentedness I’ve not experienced over the past year. I’m content, for the moment, trusting that the rest I seek will not come from a different career or a bigger city, from easier hours or higher pay.

Find rest, my soul, in God alone.

Rest, my soul.

In God.
Alone.


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