Lately my spirit has been filled with manic cacaphony, frenzied chaos, whirling clamor, warring voices. If I could hear God's voice audibly, I think He'd be saying, "Hush, child." I do hear His voice in His word, and He seems to be saying so there, too. These verses call me like a pillow at the end of a weary day -- "Rest. Trust. Cease striving. Be still. Be quiet. Be content. Be at peace."
Where am I saying "No" to this call? There's an alarm constantly blaring in my head, summoning me to arms and to action in pursuit of safety and rest, but in my striving for it, the thing I seek necessarily eludes me. Of course it's because I'm telling the Source of Rest -- the Lord of the Sabbath -- to hold on just a sec (a very long sec, as it turns out) while I root around for my security blanket. The panic that ensues when I can't find it makes me search even more frantically. I think the hardest thing in the world for me to believe is that I don't need it--that Christ is my security, and that I am swaddled in Him.