be still.

These precious hours seem to run by without a wince or a breath.

As the days get shorter, the cold becomes impenetrable, and the pale morning sun begins to settle behind fog veils on distant mountains, I find that my anxieties and stresses have multiplied – and no wonder. I’ve allowed myself, once again, to be caught up in my own shortcomings, responsibilities, and burdens, rather than leaving them where they belong at the feet of Jesus.

I suppose I’m just ready to be free of these weary bones I’ve become.


So many nights I lay awake, expectations weighing heavy, questions begging to be answered, when it seems that no answers can be found.

And I’ve heard that all we have to do is be still.

But how? I wonder. What does that even mean? How can I ‘be still’ when my heart is pounding against my chest, awaiting my next big mess-up, or watching the news and shaking my head, not understanding how anything could be as it used to, or rushing to this meeting, worrying about that person, constantly pulling over for ambulances, holding a crying child, fighting the feelings we all know, but never talk about – how can I have this peace, this ‘be still and know’? ‘Know’ what?

That He is God.

That I am incapable. That I am weak. That I am weary. But that His strength takes root where hearts may fail.

To know that He is God, is, essentially, to understand that nothing is outside His hand. That nothing breathes without His breath. The very breath we sigh with, the sharp inhales of our sobs, the same breath we draw to utter curses against the bitter circumstances we are in … were given to us. But sometimes all we can do is stand still until the rage withers, waiting, waiting, until we meet the edge of ourselves.

This is where it starts – and ends. Perhaps we may not fully understand, or even fully desire God’s will over our own, but we can trust that the Author knows what He’s writing.

While I am still learning that the sun also rises, I’m taking a moment to be still, and say, “Thy will be done”.