Seeking Peace...

 A friend asked me the other day what the end goal is... why the pursuit of healing, of closure, of joy. She clarified that healing isn't actually itself the objective, only the vehicle. Somehow, deep down, I had to agree with her. I guess it isn't just about getting wounds sewn up but perhaps, something else. 

Then she finished up by saying, "I think what you're really after is - peace. Peace of mind, peace with yourself, peace in your environment, peace with others. All the effort you're putting in is with the ultimate intention of getting out of survival mode and being able to be at peace with yourself, God, others, and your life once again. To give yourself permission to be present and experience joy." 

Her words stopped me in my tracks. She was right. 

And so for the last days, I marinated my soul in that perspective. Asked myself on an hourly basis, "what promotes or detracts from that goal of peace?" 

Later in that same week, I find myself exhausted. Head is pounding and lungs are heaving as if there's some unspoken and invisible panic squeezing the life right out of me. Body screaming out for relief from... I'm not even sure what. Stress? Emotional pain? 

Anxiety, my friend... here you are again. Somehow I keep on thinking I'll be rid of you and we will eventually part ways but, no. Again and again, you show up. Remind me to pay attention. To take action against the inner disturbance. To center the heart around what it can trust in a stormy way. 

Even though part of me just wants to curl up in bed and pretend the day doesn't need me (and it's only noon!), I call to mind the friend's observation and I realize, I need to go seek peace. Find someplace to give my strained self a chance to regroup. As terrible as I feel, maybe some solitude is exactly the remedy. 

I head to the mountains. Tried and true place where I always find my Help, just like David did. Space of refuge, of certainty in a movable, changeable world. Heart beats loudly all the way and body heats and muscles tense and yes, I'm pretty much a mess as I drive. Parking the car near mountain-lake, I sit quiet and still. Tell myself I can breathe. 

Moments afterward, I walk along lapping shores, shoes crunching on rocky beach-sand, fragments everywhere. Rhythmically, waves splash the edge. Breeze blows. Birdies call out in song. And I find a rock to sit down next to. Close the eyes and force oxygen into my tired self. 

Take in Grace, girl. You know you need it. 

I tell myself that there is nowhere to be. Nobody to demand my attention. There is only this sitting here, listening to God. Tuning out so that I can tune in. Fail to quiet yourself, and God cannot quiet you with His love. Fail to still, and you'll fail to notice God still. Because it's in this sweet harmony of doing your part to be present that God comes and is present with you. 

Gaze notices the Alaskan fireweed, bloomed out early because of unseasonable heat and stripped nearly bare by recent winds and record rains. Native legend says it's eight weeks from when the flowers have blossomed to the top that the snows arrive and here I am again, reminded of time. How it's always calling us to get up, get moving, keep doing. And so I continue to put off seeking peace... for I convince myself that other things are more pressing. 

But now I'm starting to teach myself that no thing is so necessary that it's worth sacrificing your health, your mind, you spiritual state. For years, I felt I had to place everyone else and their needs ahead of my own until I became a shell of myself, crying out desperately for rescue. And here I am now, trying to do what I can to understand what it means to rest. 

The scripture truth hits me like I ton of bricks as I sit there: in stillness and believing you will find your strength. In returning and rest will be my saving, it promises (Isaiah 30:15). The peace I am longing for, searching for will be mine if I turn back to the Source, calm down, and quietly trust Him. The safety I so deeply want will be found in circling back and waiting on God. 

In making time for God to say something, I will obtain the words and the comfort my soul needs to delivered. Noise only drowns Him out, and I tell myself I'm done with all these distraction needs that are taking up too much of me so that I cannot offer God all of me. Cannot even take care of myself, let alone rest in the fact He is caring for me. 

Am I willing? 

Spirit wants but flesh is weak and the outside things are powerful and voices can be influential and unless you make deliberate strides to stop and listen, you cannot get what will sustain you on the weary road. 

Hours later, I'm on the way back home and, while I still feel the fatigue pulsing through my aching body, a burden feels somewhat released. I take that afternoon nap anyway because I know I need it. But I also feel a little closer toward the peace I'm chasing. The bigger reason I pull myself out of house isn't because I need more activity - it's because I need more Jesus. And sometimes the busyness of this zoo of a life is just too surrounding to get alone enough to reach Him. 

Brain can be trained and soul can be restored and heart beat can be re-set because the only time worth living at is His own. Not mine. Not yours. Not anything else's. Just His. Because when we pause, we see what we've been missing all along. And what a shame to one day end up at the finality of it all and realize that miracles were all around but we never saw them because we thought we didn't have time. We didn't get enough God because we thought other things were more. 

So let blooms burst out, heat scorch, and rocks shred open in water's wake and let the winds howl and the rains come down. Let others demand your attention and let the Enemy do his part to steal your joy in the midst of it all. Here, right now, we agree to make room for God... because the truth is, God is always making room for us. We just have to step into His invitation and say yes.