I’m preaching this coming Sunday, at the LaVerne Church of the Brethren. Usually these Monday reflections are about the lectionary texts for the upcoming Sunday, but LaVerne is doing a very cool series on overlooked biblical figures, and I got to revisit Hagar and her brilliance. The sermon is via video, which means I preached and recorded it yesterday afternoon after preaching via Zoom on a different text with the Washington City CoB in the morning, and I am feeling a tad bit exegeted out, today.
Luckily, one of the texts this week is Psalm 23. Remember that one? Green pastures and still waters? Comfort and soul restoration?
Psalm 23 is so familiar that hearing its first line can shut up our ears because our brains assume we already know everything that’s coming.
The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.
See? You were already checking out.
I’ve been thinking about rest, lately, because I am not good at it. I’m okay at Doing Nothing, meaning sitting around reading or thinking too much and avoiding my to-do list. But Doing Nothing is very different from Resting. My brain doesn’t lie down in green pastures, like, EVER. My cerebrum has no still waters. It just. Keeps. Thinking.
I read recently that less than 30 percent of people have an inner monologue, and I literally gasped out loud. I could not believe it. Even after researching scientific studies on the topic, recognizing that it is almost certainly true that we inner-monologuers are in the distinct minority (the actual percentages are debated), I still simply cannot believe that most of y’all are walking around this world without the interminable, unending, constant chatter that fills my head every waking moment.
Prayer and meditation help quiet my chatty brain, as do yoga and hiking. But I am intrigued by what this psalm implies about rest being not just a temporary respite from the press of life but a sustainable state of being.
Surely goodness and mercy will pursue me all the days of my life.
I will live in God’s house my whole life long.
I suspect that these days, when the innate and intentional violence of my country is bursting through even the places where it was meant to be concealed, learning how to find soul restoration, interior still waters and cognitive green pastures is going to be very, very, very important.
The line in the psalm that my brain wants to think about this morning is
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies
Is that meant to be mocking? Like, look at me, enemies! I’m FEASTING here while you are NOT! I thumb my nose at you!
Or, maybe, it is meant to be an invitation to ME, to learn to abide in the still waters of comfort and goodness even in the midst of very imminent - maybe even certain - danger and threat. To enjoy existing, to be filled and blessed and steady and quiet in the face of our worst nightmares.
My cup runneth over.
I’m going out to hike before the temperature hits 100, part of an attempt to learn to lure my brain toward green pastures, to allow my soul to be restored. What are you doing, in these violent times, to REST?
My monologue goes on 24/7 but I have found when I actually listen to the sounds of water … fountain, rivers, etc, I can find peace and quiet there.
Yep, totally all kinds of schnitzel happening in this brain at any given moment. If there is an "off" switch I have not found it. Totally infuriating when I'd rather be sleeping, but I'm getting better at that. Thanks for this post, I love your image of enjoying simple pleasures in the face of the world burning. That's actually really beautiful.