Being Shushed: To Be Still

I love puddles.  

I see such stillness in them.  
Even the chaos of concentric rings colliding from randomly plopping drops has a sense of serenity about it.  
There is an unexplainable order to it.  
Soothing rhythm without meter.   

And when the shower passes, the puddles stay a little while 
. . . quietly mirroring the clean, rain-washed day.  
So beautiful.

I need this kind of serenity.  Especially in the middle of life’s storms.  

. . . things dropping out of brooding skies, colliding with other things, splashing all over the place, creating ripples that bump into more ripples . . . discomposing my plans . . . tussling my emotions . . . 

There is something elegant about a heart that reflects serenity in difficult places. 

Stillness isn’t very trendy.  Brashness is.  Speak your mind.  Be yourself boldly.  Make an impact.  Insist that people always know where you’re coming from.  Live out loud and live loudly.

From Mirriam-Webster’s dictionary, here are some descriptions of "brash:"

full of fresh, raw vitality;

uninhibitedly demonstrative or energetic;

lacking restraint and discernment;

done in haste without regard for consequences;

aggressively self-assertive;

piercingly sharp.

Passion is power for brash people.  Passion is their medium for expression and their means of persuasion.  And it is their validation of truth.

But I am discovering a rich life-treasure in things that are outside of the clamor.  Things that are not brash.  Things that must be drawn from a deep well of soul-quietness.  Things that mean very little when they are paraded about as trophies . . . but are profoundly meaningful when they stand as noble sentinels over a life well lived:

Perseverance.  

Hope.

Repentance.   

Integrity.  

Joy. 

Faith.

Goodness.

Wisdom.

These kinds of things come from brokenness instead of brashness.  They cannot be bought with passion.  They are courageous and astounding and heroic, but they must be slowly worked into the soil of our hearts in the quiet stillness where Truth changes things.  The working of them takes time.  Often causes pain.  But always brings Life.  The Life of God . . . from God . . . in us.

I know that God’s salvation is a gift; it cannot be earned.  And I know that the expression of His salvation in His children is as varied as the flowers in a field or the birds in the sky.  But I am also beginning to understand how shallow . . . and how very cheap . . . a brash faith can be. 

Holly stenciled a short Bible verse on Rachel’s “computer room” wall when she came to visit recently.   This verse has been resonating in my heart for several years, but seeing it written on my daughter-in-law’s wall was so beautiful.  

And quiet.  

And profound.

It is a kind of holy shushing.  
A solemn mandate to stop running and stop shouting and stop performing.  

So we can be quieted to hear.  
And see.  
And truly be changed 

. . .in the stillness of God’s Word 

. . . and in the Truth of who He really is.

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid