I have had times in my life where I have struggled to find time to think. When the busyness of all that must be accomplished, the tiredness that accompanies such doing, and the mental exhaustion that follows seems to suck away all possibility of thought, much less deep thought. And I find that the time that I spend with God is more hurried and as a consequence, he appears more distant.
This summer has been one of these times. Of course, there has been the usual chaos of the change of routine, and the blessed craziness of four children at home day after day. We are fortunate in our covid-ravaged world to have breaks away, but the welcome change of scene also brings with it the added need to organise, pack, clean and attempt to remember all that is needed or could be needed while we are all away from home. But all this “normality” has been mingled with other, unforeseen, circumstances, which have culminated in making a normal summer seem a restful and peaceful break in comparison.
By the time mid-January rolled around, I was exhausted. But we had planned one last short break away, and so we escaped, for four days. We went to a place, only an hour’s drive away, where the song of the sea filled the air and the 270° of coastal views mesmerised, compelled and drew one’s gaze. This, combined with some distance from the main highway, resulted in a place of peace, grace and stillness that was a welcome balm to my soul.
I loved that place, for it felt as if I had entered into God’s antechamber.
This summer, maybe in spite, but perhaps even because of, the disarray, has been full of grace. Some things that I have long held at arm’s length have clicked into place. And I have been aware of lessons that only such times can teach.
We have swum (to be fair only a little) in our bracingly cold southern seas this summer. And my children have learnt that part of the fun of the waves is being thrown about. That sometimes you will go under those very waves, but that they will pass. That once they are gone, you are always able to stand again. And if you remember that, you need not panic, but rather can enjoy the wildness, craziness, and fun.
One book I read this summer talked about this. I have read the first two books from C.S. Lewis’ space trilogy over the past couple of months. In the second book, The Voyage to Venus, there are many conversations between a man, from earth, and a woman on the planet Venus. In one of those conversations, she says this,
“What you have made me see,” answered the Lady, “is as plain as the sky, but I never saw it before. Yet it has happened every day. One goes into the forest to pick food and already the thought of one fruit rather than another has grown up in one’s mind. Then, it may be, one finds a different fruit and not the fruit one thought of. One joy was expected and another is given. But this I had never noticed before – that at the very moment of the finding there is in the mind a kind of thrusting back, or a setting aside. The picture of the fruit you have not found is still, for a moment, before you. And if you wished – if it were possible to wish – you could keep it there. You could send your soul after the good you had expected, instead of turning it to the good you had got. You could refuse the real good; you could make the real fruit taste insipid by thinking of the other.”
The Voyage to Venus, C.S. Lewis
One lesson I have been seeking to learn this summer, is to relish and cherish the moment before me. To drink and to savour that which is on offer here and now.
I have also learnt to be a little more patient (at least I hope, think and pray that I have). I have known that this time will pass. That the space that I crave will return. The peace, the gift of time, will again come. And it will be all the sweeter for when it was lacking. And so for these last few days, while it is still lacking, I will enjoy the busyness, the chaos, and the joy that ensues.
Lord Jesus, please teach us patience and grace. May I, may we, be people who gratefully receive your presence in the circumstances in which we find ourselves in, even when those circumstances are not what we would have chosen for ourselves. In the chaos of our lives may we see you and encounter you. For we long for you, our God and King. Amen.
What lessons have you been learning over the past few months? How do you feel when life does not go as planned? How do you cope when life becomes chaotic and busy? And how do you find time to spend with God when life becomes tumultuous?
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