(I wrote this a few years back and ran across it yesterday. It was a good reminder from my past self. Hope it can lift you up today!):
Do you ever have days when you don’t think you can take another step? When the routine of the day-in-day-out seems like crusted mud that has dried on your soul, where tire marks reveal the signs of being driven over and over again? Do you ever feel so empty inside that you don’t even feel broken, just cast aside like an old frumpy dust cloth, lying at the bottom of a heap of old, forgotten, unimportant laundry that hasn’t been washed in months. The world rushes on as if driven by some insane train conductor, where the breaks have gone out, and you feel like you have to run along-side it and match it’s speed, yet be sure you don’t break a sweat so as not to draw worried attention. Do you ever feel like you’ve accidentally set your soul down on a park bench somewhere and oops, forgot to pick it back up? Like you’re wandering aimlessly, a shallow empty shell of the human species searching for something; what you know not. Just as long as you search, as long as the tires spin and the air fills with smoke, you are living, and so you rush to chase after…after what?
And then suddenly you run into an unexpected alley where there is a deadend and your footsteps echo as you come to a stop. This isn’t where I was heading. How did I get here? And you stop. And it feels good to stop. But your brain tells you you can’t stop. And it doesn’t matter that it’s a stinky alley with trash rotted into the asfault, it just feels good to take a hush moment. And the still small voice comes whispering into the alley like a lonely afternoon breeze: “what are you doing? where are you madly rushing to? And why?” And as my breath races and my brain screams that I’m losing the race, the quiet reaches somewhere deep in my soul and almost convinces me that this is what i’m searching and rushing towards…and i begin to relax. Tense muscles slowly letting loose, breath slowing to a steady pattern. And here, in this alley of a deadend street, i start to see that herein lies my destination of fulfiillment. my eureka of longing deep inside. my answer to the question of who am i. I’ve been madly rushing past so many silent alleys for so long. I collapse in a heap at the edge of a dumpster, and as i smell the stench of rotting trash, i realize it’s full of my attempts at self – accomplishments and duty-bound exercises of self-significance.
I can’t take the pace anymore. I can’t carry the burdens anymore. And so i let go. Nothing at all to give except to just be. And then it occurs to me as I watch the madness of the traffic from my alley hideout: could this be the destination everyone is rushing to attain? Peace. Peace with self and God. Honesty of the fragile grass I am. Wouldn’t it be ironic that in the mad rat race, we are really just running from the truth of who we are and Who He is. That we are not God. That we truly were meant to just be still. That in that moment we are then found and fulfilled…. I don’t have all the answers. All I have is me, raw, chipped, grey (have you ever thought of your emotions as colors?), marred, empty, dry, wrung-out, helpless, demanded, creationless, even dreamless at the moment, and scared of my weaknesses…but it’s nice to finally see all of them in one place. And so the beauty of honesty begins to dawn on my mind…what will I choose to do with this silent beautiful moment? Only what role I choose to run in the race will tell…