Be Still

Be still and know that I am God…

­Flathead Lake, Montana
©2010, Tony Reynolds

I’m personally in need of being reminded of this daily, hourly; would you believe, moment-by-moment?

That’s because try as I might, it is all too EASY for me to forget where my true strength lies: in my Lord and Savior, not in my own effort. Like Peter, I all too often take my eyes of the Master and focus instead on the waves raging around me, only to find myself sinking deeper and deeper into depression and self-pity. I wrote this meditation a couple months ago when I read this verse as part of my morning Scripture reading. From there, the thoughts just flowed. It was a time when I was worried about the future and felt guilty about the past, unable to focus on enjoying the present as I was squeezed between the two extremes of shoulda-beens and what-ifs.

I cannot change the past. I cannot affect the future. I only have today. God says to me:

Be still from fretting anxiety
Be still from trying to be good
Be still from being morally superior
Be still from seeking your own will
Be still from trying to measure up
Be still from wanting to fix things
Be still from regret about the past
Be still from worrying about the present
Be still from fearing the future
Be still from judging your neighbor
Be still from condemning yourself…

Cease your incessant striving…

Be still and know that I AM God.
I will be exalted in the heavens,
I will be exalted in the earth.

Psalm 46:10

My prayer is that this will be your prayer as well, that God will use this in your heart to calm your spirit as He makes room for His Spirit to work inside you, in the Name of the One who is able to save, even Jesus, AMEN.

Two Are Better Than One

I’m sometimes amazed at the many ways our bodies have to feel the external world, particularly that of phantom feelings. It’s like when you try a new pair of shoes on at the shoe store, but only put one on; after that you feel like you’re walking on an uneven platform, when there’s really nothing there. I sometimes get the same feeling when I remove my heavy watch: I can still feel it on my wrist, even though it’s not there.

There is another weight I feel, that of the wedding ring I no longer wear. After nearly 31 years I can still feel its weight, its wide band closing around the flesh of my finger. There’s still an indentation where it used to sit. That ring is very special, given to me at our wedding by my bride, inscribed on the inside with part of the verse that to me symbolized our marriage and the love God gave us to share:

“Eccl. 4:9-10 Two are better than one”

The verses go on to say, “…because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him; a threefold cord is not quickly broken.” ESV

Notice that the verses only reference two people, but speak of a threefold cord. That for me has been the picture of a godly marriage, two people united with the Holy Spirit, who is the third strand of the “threefold cord”.

That threefold cord was diminished when the strand that was my wife was taken away this past April, returning home to the One who made her. The cord is weakened, but because I am still entwined with the Holy Spirit, he allows me to stretch in grief, but not be broken. This is the reason that for all outward appearances I seem to handle Jackie’s passing so well. Privately the tears still come, though less frequently than before. The wracking sobs are gone, replaced by silent streams of tears.

The night of Jackie’s Memorial I took off the wedding ring that had been my constant companion for so many years as was my habit, the ring being unusually wide and my finger needing to dry out during the night. The next morning I didn’t put it on. I’d finished my 40 days of morning when we had the memorial and so it seemed appropriate that I would no longer wear the ring that she’d given me. But today after all these many weeks, my hand still feels the weight of it. Like the phantom weight of the ring, Jackie will always be a part of me. “A man shall leave his father and mother and cling to his wife and the two shall become one flesh”. Though the feeling will fade in time, the ring, like Jackie, will always be a part of me, deep in my heart.

Advent Week Four: A Moment of Beauty

Earlier this fall, at the behest of my daughter, I joined her for a concert by the David Crowder Band and three other Christian artists. Crowder was good, but the other artists really caught my attention – particularly an eclectic group called Gungor.

Michael and Lisa Gungor played a mix of guitar, bass drum, keyboards and other odd instruments – accompanied by a cellist who also was a mean beat-boxer. Their 30-minute set concluded with their signature tune, “Beautiful Things.” It’s a simple song with a simple message: