Northern Michigan Sabbath
I am hearing the whisper of a “spirit-wind” brush the leaves of the birches beside Piatt. It is working its way past the tiredness of about 12 months and into my soul. This week was the first half of a two week hiatus away from it all. I know that a little too soon the raging torrents of our chosen mission field will make this breath of solace difficult to recount. This is a time of respite. I am very aware that the reason God breaths on us like this is to give us what our gasping co-laborers will need. For now I am appropriating it all for myself.
I vowed that I would learn to play a song that rounded out my mental collection of campfire tunes. I am working on a passably adequate version of James Taylor’s “Copperline”. I have had a sketch on the canvas of our old pumphouse, a cupola taken from the top of a barn and placed over a well. I have spent ten hours “noodling” with brushes and colors and am, possibly, coming to a close on it. A biography on Wilberforce sits beside me and, like a leftover dish in the refrigerator, has weighed on my mind as a minor irresponsibility. I am progressing toward guiltlessness.
Strange how that works with me. I store up the things that I believe I should do, and my overworked conscience will not let me rest without completion. Please understand how ridiculous it is to feel remorse over an unstarted book. I have nearly twenty thousand books in my personal library. I will never get to them all. Actually, There are many that wouldn’t be worthy of the investment.
I believe that the concept of Sabbath rest was designed for falsely peccant souls. It is the antipodal concept to the western vacation. It may answer why American leaders are so doggone tired.
Vacation for me is a time to gather strength, restructure attack plans and go back at it. I never leave anything behind me. I simply put it down for a week or two, only to pick it up later. My problem is that now I have to remember where I put it. Sabbath rest was truly a restart: Seven years at it and then stop. Start somewhere else. Spiritually, I could use that. Each week.
Enough evaluating. I’m going to sit here in the northern Michigan breeze and listen to the hummingbirds buzz each other.
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