The next morning I buttoned my Carhart jacket against my throat, put my blade in my pocket and a folded piece of legal paper in my shirt, and I headed northeast toward the recesses of Malden Creek. By late morning, I was hot, so I stopped in a clearing. I dropped my jacket on the ground and stood-leaned-back against a flat rock taller than me, standing at a precarious, sixty-degree angle. I felt the cool of the stone permeate into my core. I stared through an assortment of colored leaves into an azure sky, and I thought about working on my bullet-point.
But there was a question that caused my heart to stop: “Why are you pushing, and driving, and striving? Relax into Me. Let Me surround you, engulf you, and speak to you about My agenda.”
Had the intensity of the previous days not been so convulsing, and had there been more than a solitary bullet-point on my agenda, I would have missed Father’s perspective. But there, in a private sanctuary, surrounded by trees for witnesses and birds for friends, my heart touched for the first time what it means to relax.
I understand what Jesus meant when He told His disciples, “Let not your heart be troubled” (Jn. 14:1a).
Once the shroud was pulled away, the eyes of my heart saw Father’s peace that I perceived as my confidence through a tumultuous and intense year. I understand what Jesus meant when He told His disciples, “My peace I give to you” (Jn. 14:27a).
And next, my thoughts on sharing in God’s grace and perspective.