The pages of my journal

Trust in Him at all times. Pour out your heart to Him, for God is our refuge. – Psalm 62:8 (NLT)
     
     
Do you keep a spiritual journal?
     
I do.
     
On the pages of my journal is where I’m honest with myself about myself – my feelings, foibles, and fears. It’s where I come face-to-face with my wants, my weaknesses, and my wrestlings. Where I record my struggles with life. Where I pour out my mind and my heart as I strive to hear and understand God’s direction. Where I try to make sense of things that just don’t seem to make sense.
     
Here’s one entry from January 13, 2011. I’d had carpel tunnel surgery a month earlier, which did little to relieve the numbness in my left arm and hand. In fact, my condition worsened. “Inflamed nerve endings” was the diagnosis and the Rx was Tylenol with codeine. I’d never experienced such debilitating pain, and I hope I never do again. An MRI eventually revealed three herniated neck disks, for which I had surgery six months later.
     
In the midst of the pain, I wrote, “I never thought to pray myself for God to take away the pain and heal me. I’ve asked others to pray – for the neck to heal – but in its time. I don’t expect a miracle. Why? Because I believe that God is in control of my life, and that He has allowed this for a reason. There is a purpose for the pain.”
     
Then I skipped a space and wrote, “I’m almost 60. My body is slowing down.”
     
Nine months later, on September 12, I wrote:
     
“Today I begin my retirement from teaching. I am sad. Teaching is my passion, and I loved teaching at PCS. But I know at this time it’s the right decision. I’m weary in body, mind, and spirit. I must tend to all areas to get my life back in balance and to find renewal, restoration, and healing.
     
“I’m spending the morning feeding my soul (with reading and prayer). This first week I’m making a personal retreat to have time alone with God, not necessarily seeking His will, but seeking HIM. I will rest my body, which is exhausted. . . . Yes, I have responsibilities and obligations, but my first priority is restoring health in my body, spirit, and mind.”
     
I confess: I’ve been neglecting my spiritual journal. I’ve let my life get out of balance again.
     
It’s time to get back to recording my spiritual journey. For I need to pour out my heart to God, let Him help me make sense of the senseless, and come face-to-face with not only myself, but the God who loves me and guides me and is present with me every moment of every day.
     
You have a journal, too, Lord. It’s called the Bible. May I read it every day because on its pages You pour out Your love for me. Amen. 

More tea: Read Psalm 62

Camping by the creek

          
He leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul. – Psalm 23:2–3 NIV
      
      
Both my husband and I love to hike mountain trails, and there were plenty in the Great Smoky Mountains, where we spent our vacation this year. I estimate I walked about 17 miles. Dean more because after the 5½-mile hike on Tuesday, which included one mile up a mountain and one mile down, I needed a day of rest. So Wednesday I stayed at the campground while Dean went on a solo hike. (Which I suspect he enjoyed immensely because I wasn’t dragging along, slowing him down—but he’s too much of a gentleman to admit it.)
      
We had a wonderful vacation, with plenty of mountain streams rippling over rocks and gushing down waterfalls—and flowing behind our campsite. Moving water, remember, creates negative ions that help to energize you and counteract the effect of fatigue-causing positive ions created by modern life. I wish I would have taken a day just to sit by the creek and read. But instead I hiked more than I was in condition to hike and on my one day “off” did laundry and cleaned the camper.
      
“He leads me beside streams of water,” the psalmist wrote. “He restores my soul” (Psalm 23:2–3).
      
He can lead us to a place of rest and restoration, but it’s our decision whether or not to stop for a while. Sometimes all we do is pause, take in the scene, and move on.
      
Why do we think we need to accomplish so much? I don’t know about you, but I put more on my to-do list than I can actually accomplish in one day—or one week. “Why do I expect so much of myself?” I muttered as I put one hiking boot in front of the other. If I’m not careful, my Shepherd will make me lie down in that green pasture beside the gurgling brook (verse 2).
      
Pacing myself is the answer, and the best way to do that is to follow Jesus’ example. He had but one item on His to do-list: serve His heavenly Father. He was busy, yes, but He took time out to hike up a mountain or slip off to a quiet garden to spend time with God before the crowds showed up.
      
In my rush to get everything done on a to-do list I alone compile, I find myself skipping time beside that quiet stream. I need to put pack into my schedule time to pray deeply and to give the Scriptures I read time to soak into my spirit. I didn’t even slow down when we were on vacation.

What about you? Do you let Him lead you beside quiet waters so He can restore your soul? No? Well, maybe it’s time to camp by the creek for a while.

            
Thank you, Lord, for reminding me once again of how much I need to rest beside the quiet waters and let You restore my soul. Amen.

 Special-Tea: Read Psalm 23

      

Unforced rhythms of grace

Judith Maddock Ferencz, June 2, 2001

“Learn the unforced rhythms of grace.” – Jesus, as quoted in Matthew 11:29 (The Message)
      
Yesterday was the eleventh anniversary of my sister’s death.
      
She was only 55. It was totally unexpected.
      
These things change you. Change the way you think about things. Change the way you live.
      
I’d been teaching full time and writing part time for a local newspaper for years. With the youngest in college and the older two on their own, now was the time to pursue my dreams.
      
While teaching was my passion, I wasn’t finding fulfillment in covering school board and county commissioners meetings and election results. And while I loved the camaraderie of the newsroom staff, getting up early Saturday mornings to drive 45 minutes in all kinds of weather to type obituaries wasn’t getting me any closer to my writing goals.
      
Of course I ignored the signs of dissatisfaction and pushed on. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?
      
Then a post-operative blood clot took the life of my only sister just when we were getting close again. I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.
      
I shivered on the love seat for days, in shock.
      
Change. It’s foisted on all of us. Whether we welcome it or not.
      
The key to surviving it is to look to God, knowing He has a plan and purpose for us (Jeremiah 29:11, Psalm 139:16), knowing He takes the rough draft of the chapters of our lives and revises them so they shine (Romans 8:28) and lead to the ending He has planned. And knowing that if we follow our Shepherd, we will arrive at that ending without burning ourselves out.
      
But I hadn’t been stopping long enough to listen to God.
      
My sister’s death was a wakeup call—to pause in my headlong rush to fulfill my dreams and be all things to all people, and determine where I was truly headed.
      
Davis Bunn, in his 40-day devotional “The Turning,” writes, “When we read, we give no notice to the spaces between the words. And yet those pauses are vital. Without them, there is nothing but a senseless jumble. With them, thoughts are unique, words are clear, ideas fashioned, lives transformed. So it is with the brief pauses we make to stop and listen. Our thoughts and actions take on new clarity.”
      
And so it was for me. If I were to die suddenly in my mid-fifties, I thought, would I have realized my dreams? Within a week, I resigned from the newspaper job.
      
I still get too busy, lose focus, and drift away from God’s path for me. It’s refreshing to pause, still the clamor of life, rest and recharge spent batteries.
      
“Are you tired? Worn out?” Jesus says. “Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace” (Matthew 11:28–29, The Message).
      
      
I’m a slow learner, Lord. I have to force myself to slow down. Sometimes my body, mind, and spirit are just too exhausted to push on. Remind me often to pause to reflect, rest, and recharge. Amen.

Special-Tea: Read Matthew 11:28-30; Psalm 23

Judi was a gifted classical pianist  (November 1985)

Selah

       He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul.  – Psalm 23:2?3 (NIV)
      
       Have you ever noticed the little word Selah that appears frequently in the book of Psalms? Ever wonder what it means? Or maybe, like me, you skip over it. After all, it’s one little word, set apart from the rest of the text. How important could it be?
       I never gave Selah much thought, especially after I learned that the word’s meaning is uncertain. Then I got a Kindle for Christmas and downloaded the Amplified Bible, which explains the meanings of words as they were understood in their original language. When I came across the word Selah, the explanation inside the brackets read “pause, and calmly think of that!”
       That was something I knew I should do—and often tried to do—but was usually in a hurry to get my daily devotions done so I could plunge into my full schedule.
       Then on June 6 I had surgery to repair three herniated neck disks. I prepared myself as best as I could. I walked daily to build up my stamina, got my reading stash in order, submitted my June columns and radio programs ahead of time, and cleared my summer schedule. I had no idea how long recovery would take. One lady who’d had the same operation told me she was back to work three and a half weeks after the surgery. Others also told me they rebounded within weeks.
       The surgery was successful. I’ve had no pain—at all. After seven months of sometimes debilitating pain, that alone is enough to make me want to plunge right back into a full schedule. But I was given strict restrictions: no BLTS—no bending, lifting, twisting, or sitting for more than 30 minutes at a time—I wasn’t allowed to do anything but rest until my follow-up appointment two weeks after I was discharged. “If you’re not bored,” I was told, “you’re doing something wrong.”
       I wanted to get my life back, so I adhered to the doctor’s orders—and found that I enjoyed the down time. Rather than be bored, I was relaxed. I even let the reading stack go. Naps were more important.
       By the day of my follow-up appointment, though, I knew I still wouldn’t be running any marathons. As I viewed the X-rays in the doctor’s office, I counted eight screws holding the plate in place in my neck. I literally have my head screwed on, I thought. So I wasn’t surprised when the doctor told me I would trade the hard cervical collar for a soft one—which I’ll wear for six weeks “because you had multiple layers (more than one disk) done.”
       I’m gradually increasing my activity—walking short distances every other day, resting when I feel tired, working at the computer until my shoulders tell me “enough!” And today I’ll drive for the first time in a month. But for the rest of the summer I’ll take it easy—take the time to Selah and not feel guilty.
       Selah—such a little word. How important can it be?
      
       Sometimes, Lord, You have to stop me in my tracks to get me to slow down and Selah. Remind me not to skip over it again. Amen.
      

Running on "E"

      Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest. – Mark 6:31(NIV)

    I ain’t as young as I used to be. Back in the day, I’d clean the entire house—a good cleaning—in two days, and wash all the windows and curtains and drapes in one. And that’s with refereeing three kids, two cats, and one dog on the side. And getting supper and gardening. Nowadays I’m lucky to get one room cleaned a week. If I do anything that requires physical exertion one day, I have to take it easy the next. And there’s just hubby and me.

     Which is why I don’t mind forgoing the social butterfly thing and being a quiet homebody. But the past couple of months have been unusually busy: three trips to Colorado in as many months (I never realized before how traveling can knock the stuffing out of you), a week-long writers conference, then coming home to clean the house and prepare for my daughter’s two-week visit. By the time she pulled up to the house with her two boys, I’d already been running on “E” (exhaustion) for longer than I cared to think about. My body screamed “REST!”

     So for the two weeks she’s home, I’m sleeping in until nine (unless my grandson gets me up), doing only what’s necessary to keep up with my freelance work (which amounts to maybe five hours a week), forgoing planning meals and activities for going with the flow. On Wednesday night, I stayed up until 2 a.m. reading. I haven’t done that in a long time.

    When a friend commented Facebook that she “will attempt to squeeze a lot into one day,” I replied that I “will attempt to squeeze in as little as possible, but include the following: read, spend time in the hammock and in my son’s pool, play games with the grandkids, go to my grandson’s minor league all star baseball championship game, and read until 2 a.m. again.” It’s a good thing I knew what I was going to write about and had this column outlined already, because as soon as I send it off, I’m going to join the grandkids in the pool.

    Fun. Idleness. Rest. Quiet. Nothing wrong with those. When God created us, he didn’t make us Energizer Bunnies. He fashioned human beings with bodies and minds and spirits that need rest. And to make sure we got the message, He included a day of rest a week in the Big Ten and mentioned the importance of rest several places in His Word. When Elijah, exhausted from the intense battle he’d just waged and won, fled to the desert, God gave him the rest he needed (1 Kings 19). And who can forget the words of David the shepherd: “He makes me to lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside still waters, he restores my soul” (Psalm 23:2-3).

    Feeling like you’re running on “E”? Carve out time for rest. Find those green pastures and still waters. Sit on the beach and watch the waves. Or on the back porch and watch the leaves. Or lie on your back in the grass and gaze at the clouds floating across the sky.

    Rest isn’t a sin. It’s a necessity.
   
    Dear God, teach me to rest. Amen.

      Special-Tea: Read Mark 6:30-32