Being Shushed: Revelations and Resolutions

When I got up this morning, the simple rhythm of my day unfolded with dependable routine . . . taking the poodles outside for their morning “potty walk” . . . chatting with my husband in his office about his current Bible study . . . taking my vitamins . . . pouring a cup of hot apple cider . . . putting some bread in the toaster . . . It was all so typical. So familiar. So comfortable.

Then as I began to open a jar of peach preserves, an image of my grandmother wandered into my mind. She was sitting on the front porch of her white farmhouse in the cool shade of a warm summer afternoon. I could hear a crisp snap . . . snap . . . snap . . . as her small, strong, wrinkled hands filled the large bowl in her lap with a pile of green beans for tomorrow’s Sunday dinner. I could see her snow-white hair neatly swirled into a tight bun, her old-fashioned black shoes perfectly laced, and her work apron spread generously over her stockinged knees. And I could almost feel the warm summer breeze wafting across Uncle Charles’s verdant cow pasture across the front yard.

Granmaw was thinking and I could see by the determination in her eyes that she had made a decision. “I’m of a mind to walk down to that house and set him straight,” she said in her clear, frail, determined voice. I knew she was talking about the hired hand that lived at the lower end of the dairy farm. Way back in the far pasture, past the chicken coop, down the hill from the milking barn. Granmaw kept a keen eye on this man’s children . . . their grooming, their behavior, the look of their cheeks . . . and she had decided that this man needed to tend to his household with a bit more diligence. Once Granmaw was “of a mind” to do something, she always did it.

As the nostalgic scene melted into a fog of pleasant memories, the still, quiet voice of the Holy Spirit gently guided me back into the realm of today. “What are you of a mind to do, dear?” He asked me simply.

The question hung in the air like fog hovering over the Smoky Mountain vista outside my kitchen window. Not challenging. Not demanding. Not even with a sense of exhortation. It was just a simple inquiry. So alone, in the solitude of my morning kitchen, I quieted my soul to see if I could find an answer. What was I of a mind to do?

Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus . . . something Paul had said in one of his letters. (I found it later in Philippians chapter 2). I began to think that I was of a mind to do exactly what the Lord wanted me to do. But THAT . . . I full-well knew . . . was a loaded proposition.

I have heard so much bluster lately about the necessity of walking in the Grace of God. Legalism is touted as an extreme evil. Getting a deeper revelation of what God has already done for believers seems to be the latest craze. But lost in all that condemnation and revelation is my immediate necessity to see God and follow Him right now . . . right here . . . with what I already understand . . . through the circumstances that I face at this very moment. For sure I need to know Him more. For sure I need to grow in my maturity to manifest His character and His love. But there in my kitchen this morning, before the busyness of my day had an opportunity to start dictating my schedule, my life seemed to be clarified and invigorated by a calm, quiet, simple question:

“What are you of a mind to do, dear?”

Then I began to see why He was asking.

In the same way I had experienced the memory of Grandmaw on her front porch, I began to see the difficulties that have been crowding into my life . . . even the really hard things that have come just this past week. They lined up in perfect formation . . . one-by-one in my thoughts . . . like starched, polished soldiers ready for inspection. It was all very real. I began to feel the pain. Sorrow swelled and spilled into unsure places of my heart. Fear slinked darkly around the corners of unspoken doubts. Very much my life. And very much now.

“What are you of a mind to do, dear?” the Holy Spirit asked again . . . simply and quietly.

All I could think of was a simple answer.
“What are You of a mind to do, Lord?”
Nothing else came to mind. I knew I was answering a question with a question, but that was all I had.

Then I waited.
And listened.

In my younger years I would have answered His question differently. There would be a number of things I would be of a mind to do. I would quote scripture. I would pray. I would march onto the battlefield of sickness, sorrow, injustice, and fear with a sword in my hand, a hollerin’ war-cry on my lips, and fire in my heart . . . warring my way through to God’s glorious victory in every circumstance.

But I am of a mind to do things differently these days.
I am of a mind to be of His mind.
No matter what that looks like.

For thus the Lord GOD, the Holy One of Israel, has said,

"In repentance and rest you will be saved,

In quietness and trust is your strength."

But you were not willing,

And you said, "No, for we will flee on horses,"

Therefore you shall flee!

"And we will ride on swift horses,

" Therefore those who pursue you shall be swift.

Isaiah 30:15-16 (NASB).

It has become very clear to me that what I am of a mind to do . . . is exactly what I will do.
My disposition, my thought processes, my opinions, and my personal resolve pretty much dictate my actions. And my actions pretty much reflect whom I trust
. . . whom I worship
. . . who I imitate.

So I have begun to take Isaiah 30:15-16 to heart.
And to mind.
And even to . . . disposition.
Here is what I see. It may seem overly simplified, but elegant simplicity is often what is needed in difficult, heart-rending circumstances.

I am of a mind to be:
repentant . . . to the point that change really happens
at rest . . . from striving and from strife
quieted . . . from complaining or boasting or justifying or speculating
trusting . . . in God alone
. . . at the expense of personal pride
. . . allowing no situation, no philosophy, and no relationship to broker my faith.

In repentance and rest is my salvation.
In quietness and trust is my strength.
I will leave the swift horses for those who need them.
I just need the Lord.

I am of a mind to believe the Lord.
To allow Him full reign in every nook and cranny and situation of my life.
To be changed by the Truth of Who He is and what He wants.

I am of a mind to be still . . . and know . . . that He is God.
Psalm 46:10

Psalms 46:10-11
Lesa K. Reid