Last night I was awake for some time in the middle of the night. And is so often the case thoughts came flooding through my mind one after another. Making the prospect of a short period of wakefulness increasingly impossible.
These past months life has been chaotic, pressured, frustrating and marked by grief. I must apologise for letting this blog slip during that time. When I first started writing, I tried to write two posts a week. But I soon found that the pressure of that self-imposed deadline incompatible with the time, space and creativity needed to write. So I dropped it and decided instead that I would write when I felt I had something to say. But, for some time, I have not thought that I had anything. At least nothing to say with any clarity.
Last night, as I lay thinking of the pressures and demands on my time and life, I reiterated yet again to God my deep longing for him. I spoke to him of my fears and worries, of my deep desire to know him and be known by him. As I did so, it was as if the mud that has stalked my thoughts, prayers and waking moments suddenly settled.
I am sure that many of you have seen what happens when a jar of dirty water riddled with sediment is shaken until all that can be seen is a swirling, wet mess. The result is certainly not something anyone would choose to drink. But, given time, the water slows and settles. The sediment falls to the bottom. And what is left? But clear, clean, beautiful water, sparkling with clarity.
That was my interior world, and that was the gift given to me last night.
For, it turns out, I have been given a gift in the elusiveness of sleep. My days can be full of sediment, and it takes time and space for that to settle. Often the only opportunity for that is in the small hours of the night. And as frustrated as I often am that my brain has decided that this is the best time for it to digest, examine and reflect, I am also grateful. For I know how important this is. I know that God speaks in the times when I am still. In the spaces and times when the sediment of my life is allowed to settle so that other voices are no longer overwhelmed.
I was thinking about other opportunities, other times, other ways and places where this can happen.
Perhaps there is the opportunity and invitation to find this in deep, godly conversations filled with space, grace. Where insightful questions are asked, and brutal honesty is present. That has been one place where I found this gift. But, for me, at least, those conversations are rare (and so I treasure them when they occur, knowing just how priceless they are).
Maybe this can occur in solitary time away in the space and beauty of creation. When one is acutely aware of how small one is. And so, in those moments, all else can fade away.
Or in the quiet of the early morning. In the monotony of repetitive movement or exercise, when rhythm creates a foil for stilling the mind. Or in the time taken to create a work of art.
And then there are retreats, the practice of retreating from life to go and be with God. An open invitation to do just this. Spaces away and apart for you to step outside of all that usually occupies and consumes you to commune with God. Retreats are an open invitation to allow the mud to settle.
These are just a few ways that I can think of. There must be more. Perhaps there are other pathways that you have found to do this (feel free to leave a comment below). I suspect that whatever way this is achieved, whatever avenue or avenues are found, there must always be a common element. And that is time. The only way for sediment to settle is to give it time to do just that.
In my life, at least where I am right now, the way that this happens most readily is in sleepless hours of the night. I am learning to consider them as a gift given to me by the creator of life, the one who loves more than any other and who knows me better than I know myself. But, however this works for you, let us embrace the process and allow the mud to settle so that we might see God, that we might hear God and in doing so, that we would be drawn ever closer to him.
Lord Jesus, we long for you. We long to see you and to hear you. Yet so often, our minds and thoughts are clouded by muddy water and try as we might, we cannot relate to you the way we long to. Please provide us with space, time, the conversations and the situations that we need for this to happen. Help us to prioritise and give time to those things. May the sediment settle, and as it does, may we see you and hear you with clarity. Amen
Do you find time in your life so that the mud can settle? How? When? Perhaps you need to make the time for that to happen today or in the coming days. What have you found to be most helpful in this process? Do you prioritise this in your life?
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