I hear the quiet. It is not a familiar sound.
I fight to fill the void.
This old farmhouse echoes with laughter and “busyness” most of the time.
But for the moment it is quiet.
The laundry, dishes, bills and getting ready for church vie for first place.
The farmer rests.
His evening sleep often interrupted by the demon of worry and anxiousness
spinning tales while his body seeks rest.
Even when you know where you are going; worry can still get you.
John 14:2-3
In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you,
I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.
John 14:2-3
In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you,
I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also.
He bears the weight of the burden of the farm.
What once was honoring and fulfilling; now a crushing burden.
I try to rest in the quiet.
An attribute taken on during Lent.
An attempt to seek the quiet.
A practice difficult for me.
There is value in doing.
Surrounded by noise and people, activities and doing, there is not much time to think.
Yet when the quiet comes it can be a threat.
I lean into the quiet.
I practice waiting.
Waiting to hear from the Lord.
Just being still.
Resting in the enormity of who He is.
Of all that He is able to do and more.
The quiet loses it’s ominious feeling and I feel the peace descend.
I am broken and hurting.
What about you?
Do you know that peace and assurance?
John 14:27
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives.
Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
