Day of Rest

I’ve been thinking about rest again. It seems to happen on the weekends naturally. This being Sunday, the “day of rest,” I’ve been thinking about it again in the context of the Sabbath. The Bible says that God instituted the concept of the Sabbath on the seventh day of his creation of the world.

“On the seventh day God had finished his work of creation, so he rested from all his work. And God blessed the seventh day and declared it holy, because it was the day when he rested from all his work of creation.” (genesis 2:1-2)

Thus, the idea of a holy day of rest was born. In the account, God had surveyed the words of his mouth and the work of his hands at a stopping point the day before. He determined that it was all very good and he “rested.” Just what was this resting about, that the God of the universe chose to do it?

Was God tired? Did he need sleep after the exhaustion of his labors? That doesn’t really fit with the concept of God revealed throughout the Bible, and yet I see that pervading some of the ideas surrounding what men do with the Sabbath.

After the success of his creative endeavors, did God suddenly feel the desire to be worshipped? Did the demand for a designated day of worship somehow reveal itself on the seventh day? That doesn’t seem to fit either. No, God was no more worthy of worship on day seven in his pause of creation than he was on day six or day five. He made no command for any of his creation to join him that day in his “rest”, nor did he demand any act of worship for himself out of the day’s holiness. Although, that seems to be the popular sentiment as well. That admonition came later, and I’ll admit that I’ve always viewed it a part of the idea of Sabbath. But, it really wasn’t indoctrinated that way in this dawning of a day seven.

A year or so ago, I came across the definition of the Hebrew word for Sabbath — “shabbat”. To cease. I’ve written about it several times in this EyeJunkie space. Yet, as evidenced by this post, I keep coming back to it. I keep coming back to trying to understand it, or trying to implement it’s obvious importance into my life. Why an obvious importance? Well, God himself observed it, after all. Between the thoughts of worship services and just catching up on sleep, what does it mean to rest, to set apart a “day” of rest? What did it mean, that God would choose it?

It’s interesting to me that this was perhaps the first act in a process of worship that began as a declaration of a holy moment–a designation–and progressed into a command  to remember it and continue it. To keep stopping. To keep setting it apart.

To cease. It makes perfect sense, but so often I overlook it. I breeze right through it in an attempt to get on with the business of doing something. The ceasing part so often eludes me in the process of doing and creating and living. Yet, God chose to stop, to cease. He surveyed what he had done. He evaluated it. He recognized it’s significance. And he claimed it’s success. He named it “very good.”

That’s a powerful concept. I’ve been reminded recently how important it is in roads of change to recognize milestones. To take stock and acknowledge the small (and big) successes along the way. It makes long journeys shorter. It gives difficult moments an easier comparison. And yes, it brings rest to weariness. It brings the chaos of moving forward to a welcomed cease.

I’ve had a crazy idea since I began this adventure in paying attention of creating a 12-step program for EyeJunkies — yep, one of those hare-brained notions I may or may not get around to. But, should the idea materialize, surely “to cease” is the first step. I certainly can’t pay attention to anything until I choose to stop — least of all my own progress. The choice to cease enables so many other choices. It enables that intention I crave so often. It defies the notion of busy-ness. And yet it sometimes defines the idea of accomplishment. And the emotional, mental and spiritual “rest” initiated from simply stopping and looking and calling it good is hard to come by any other way.

12 Days of Thanksgiving: G

Giving thanks.

Well, through whatever wrestling required, Thanksgiving leaves its mark. On our hearts. On our mindset. Jacob wrestled with an angel. He left the experience with a blessing and a wound. A wound, perhaps, of laying aside his own will, his own preconceptions, his own ingrained thinking. A wound from succumbing to the blessing. The wound was a remembrance I think he carried his whole life. The book of Hebrews describes the end of Jacob’s life. He worshipped “leaning on his staff.” Perhaps the result of a hip dislocated in a wrestling match with an angel. I can’t help but admire how very much he wanted the blessing. How valuable it was to him. How he recognized its significance. I want to recognize my own blessings in that same way. And I want to wrestle against whatever thinking might rob me of seeing them.

I started this 12-day journey with doubts. I stepped into it kicking and screaming. And I’ve found, as I have each year, that of all the blessings enumerated at Thanksgiving, the act of giving thanks itself offers its own indelible joy. The act of acknowledging all the wealth bestowed on our lives is a blessing.

Last night, Little Drummer Boy asked me a question.

“Mommy, are we rich?”

It made me giggle inside. He’s learning about money and that we have to earn it in order to be able to spend it. That we need it to get special things. He knows that Mommy works. So, he is becoming conscious of whether we have money. My answer…

“No, sweetie, we aren’t rich.”

A sigh. And a half-growl. “So that means we’re poor.”

“No, sweetie, it doesn’t.”

“So, we’re somewhere in between.”

“We have just what we need, love.”

We have just what we need. Through the blessing of giving thanks, we can hope to understand that anyone can be rich. Through grateful hearts, we recognize our own wealth in any circumstance.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Twelve Days of Thanksgiving: T

Thanksgiving.

Deciding whether to post my usual 12 Days of Thanksgiving series this year was an arduous task. I’m not exactly sure why. The dates seemed to sneak up on me. I can’t believe how quickly the last few months have flown by. It’s always interesting to me how the passage of time flies or creeps, and I suppose part of the pursuit of EyeJunkie is an attempt to slow it down to a series of continual snapshots I can more easily take in.

Beyond the fast pace of experiences that seems to have overtaken my mind over the last few months, I think my real dilema in creating a series of Thanksgiving posts has been a sort of reluctance to explore the topic. I wasn’t sure I really had the mental space to do it justice this year. You may have gleaned from my rather infrequent posts recently that this time of transition in my life has been almost an overload to my spirit, one in which I’ve done a lot of soul-searching. That soul-searching sometimes involves mind-wandering and spirit-wandering, evaluating where I’ve been and imagining where I might be going. Wandering leads to questioning, and questioning is sometimes a gratitude killer.

However, the concept of “3rd annual” is a very powerful encouragement for a girl like me. I place so much stock in traditions that the mere thought of having celebrated the 12 Days of Thanksgiving for the last two years was a powerful enticement to make the commitment this year too. SO… I’m taking the plunge. Today begins the 3rd Annual 12 Days of Thanksgiving posting series at EyeJunkie. Since I’ve noticed my own scattered quality lately as well as the whole soul-searching, gratitude-challenged penchant I mentioned earlier, I thought I needed a little boost for topic ideas. This year, I’m using each of the letters in the word “thanksgiving” as thought-starting catalysts for sharing some of the things blessing me at the moment. They may not be the typical things, but they are realities and ideas that are impressing on me just how big this life is, and how much I DON’T want to miss it.

You see, through the process of deciding whether I really wanted to focus my attention on Thanksgiving for twelve days straight, I’ve realized once again how very central gratitude is to living a deliberate life. How essential it is to a life aware. At least a positive life aware. To be engaged in your own life in any meaningful way requires paying attention to what’s there. It requires looking with intention (even intently) at the things filling up that life and pulling from them the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful–whatever differentiates between living and mere existence.

The dictionary defines “thanksgiving” as the “grateful acknowledgement of benefits or favors.” Grateful acknowledgement. Awareness is the prerequisite to acknowledgement. We can’t recognize blessings until we commit to seeing them–really seeing them. So, as I begin this 12-day journey toward Thanksgiving Day, even though I’ve been mired in reluctance, I find that I’m finally eager to seek out blessings and once again cultivate a grateful heart.

I’m reminded of a story in the biblical book of Genesis. A story in the life of Jacob. He found himself at a moment of transition–moving from the life he’d come to know and one of uncertainty. A moment of wandering. A moment of facing his past and his future.  Alone at night, he wrestled with an angel until daybreak. When it was clear the new day of decision and action had arrived–the next day–he spoke to the angel. “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” Though it came through wrestling, he received his blessing that day. And he walked away battered, but with a new confidence for the journey.

I hope you’ll join me for these twelve days. Perhaps thanksgiving will require a little wrestling to find the blessing. But, the blessing is there nonetheless. Let’s don’t let go until we see it.

BP, Leftovers & Jesus: A Dialogue

I think I’ve mentioned my instigator friend, #17. He’s actually an old friend (don’t take that personally, #17) who claims to be a recent and avid EyeJunkie convert. I call him an instigator because he sometimes sends me links or questions or book recommendations to stir the Junkie pot a little, prompting me to express myself on various issues or ideas, and perhaps inspiring me to some essay eloquence. Right.

It happened this morning. Again.

Like many across our country (and indeed our planet), I’ve been watching news of the oil “spill” in the Gulf of Mexico over the past six weeks. The story is of particular interest to those, who like me, live in Mississippi and other Gulf states. But, the implications environmentally and economically are so much more far-reaching.  Anyone who is awake is certainly convinced of that. Right? When I heard of the proposed “top kill” option to stem the flow of oil into the Gulf, my first thought was, “This whole process is an exercise in experimentation with 210,000 gallons of oil gushing daily.” It’s a frightening concept to realize you are reaching the limit of your own capacity to redeem a situation.

Enter #17.

This morning he called my attention to an article from the New York Times about the affect the “spill” is having on Louisiana shrimpers and fishermen. The implications of this disaster on their way of life and livelihood are unmistakeable, including the  larger questions of whether shrimp from the Gulf will ever be safe to eat. The plot thickens on the impact of the explosion at Deepwater Horizon. #17 wondered aloud in cyberspace why the disaster is still being called a “spill” rather than a “crime scene.” Good question. But a crime against what? Against whom?  Then, of course, #17 took the probe one step further.

“WWJD?”

For the unindoctrinated, that means “What would Jesus do?” Yep. Once an instigator, always an instigator. The ensuing dialogue in pursuit of an answer to that question made me think. It made me sad. It made me wonder. It made me ask more questions. With #17′s permission, I thought I’d share it here with little editing…

Junkie: And what’s YOUR take on what Jesus would do?

#17: Maybe He would cry. Why don’t YOU lead me to water on this?

Junkie: I don’t know about leading to water, but random thoughts…

I do think God is grieved by it. I believe a few facts about God that color the situation.

I think God made this earth. I think He designed it to be a living and continual testament to Himself and His existence. I also think He made it to sustain itself in many ways, but also to need a caretaker. The first few chapters of the Bible indicate that God designated man to be that caretaker. I think God designated man as the culmination of His creation — therefore not equivalent to nature, but more important than nature. In many ways, He designed the “system” or nature to serve man. That’s not necessarily a popular opinion with environmental groups.

In those first few chapters of Genesis, there is the account of man in the garden of Eden. Some see it as figurative, some as a recount of history. To me, the concepts are the same regardless. In that story, it was God who killed the first animals to provide clothing for man after his “fall.” The environment was used to serve the needs of man.

So, there’s a fine line with this situation. I think it’s ok for man to explore, ok to tap and use the resources we have available on this planet. However, God entreated man to be the caretaker. So there is an inherent responsibility of stewardship. I think that’s where we fall short. I think that’s where greed takes over. I think that’s where we show our lack of restraint. That lack of restraint and balance is what so often leads us into disaster.

But, above all, I believe God is compassionate. He gave souls to men, not to plants or animals. In this situation, I think he still sees the people as more important than the damage. I’m also aware that the two aren’t easily separated.

What would Jesus do?
I don’t know. I think He would have men act with compassion. I think He would want us all to take responsibility for our own actions, to own them. I think He would want sincerity in motives and actions. I think He wants the extra mile, the giving of the shirt as well as the coat, the recognition of what is priceless. I think He wants this mess cleaned up.

I like the idea of the Gumbo parties. [Gumbo for the Gulf is the benefit brain child of Environment Michigan.] Go out and buy shrimp. Eat it and give. But, is a halt to all drilling the answer? I don’t know.

I know that for many counties in Mississippi and Louisiana, the best job opportunities for feeding families are found in offshore drilling (and ironically in fishing or aquaculture). With the limited educational opportunities and historic poverty, those jobs are essential in many ways. In Mississippi, forestry is one of the largest industries (if not the largest) — another target of the environmental lobby. The current crisis is in need of funds and so are the shrimpers and other fishermen. But what about long term? What economic development can be produced to replace the jobs lost with a halt to all drilling?

And, the reality is that most goods are delivered by freight across this country. A reduction in the amount of available oil (regardless of its source) means double or triple prices on basic needs. I can’t afford that again.

There are many positions here. And not many easy answers. For me, I think the best answer lies in balance and restraint. For regulations and limits to be real. For incentives for alternative fuel to be real and enticing. For disincentives to breeching the limits to be real and detrimental.

#17: I agree completely.

I appreciate the narrative about the scripture. I also see nature as something in service to man. So did the Romans. So did the American Indians. Have you read Wendell Berry? On Stewardship? [more instigation]

I also believe in moderation and compassion. I believe in restraint and delicacy. That’s why I re-read books, why I wear my clothes out, why I have ridden a bike for so long. Its why I took the bus in Cincinnati. Its why I took the train home in Mississippi. That’s why I buy $25 of gas at a time, why I eat leftovers and pack a lunch. Its why I put new lenses in old frames and why I’m careful about how often I wash clothes.

I also believe Jesus would be grieving. And so do many others at a distance from this crisis. We feel helpless.

Junkie: Everyone feels helpless. And, we ARE in many ways.

Presumably the best and brightest minds from the private and public sectors are applying solutions to this problem to no avail. That’s not an easy thing for man to accept. And, it’s not an easy thing to look in the mirror as a race or a people after having created such a far-reaching dilemma. It’s not easy to admit that we had no foresight, or at least inadequate foresight. It’s like the realization after Hiroshima — what have we done? What genie is now out of the bottle?

Bringing it back to the real people, I think what bothers me the most is the rush to embrace agendas. It’s human nature and politics, but it’s taking our eyes off the ball. Party lines, Obama bashing, big oil bashing. The rhetoric has a place, but it is in the back seat. I was disappointed most, I think, to see the immediate adversarial relationship established by the EPA representatives upon their arrival two weeks after the explosion. In reading the tenor of the press conferences since, it put BP in an immediate defensive position. Of course, they’re going to be the fall guy. They are going to be the culprit. That’s obvious. But, that was a mistake in crisis management. To establish advocacy and an environment of cooperation fosters the best ideas. It squelches the need for secrecy and hedging. I think that approach was politically motivated, and it offended me as a citizen of a state that is likely to be affected directly by this disaster for decades. And, to see a Congressman holding up a glass filled with dark liquid that could just as easily have been 3-day old coffee was just ridiculous posturing.

You know, I’m seeing articles where the concept of “risk management” and its viability are coming into question. The assumption is that BP (or any of the oil companies) may have imagined this scenario in some brainstorming session somewhere in the past, but it was likely not even addressed because the possibility was so remote. Now, the remotest possibility has created a situation where a hazmat suit is required to walk in the Louisiana marshes that feed the lowest elements on the food chain — for wildlife and humans. “Managing” risk is an exercise in choosing, in setting priorities. Unfortunately, the priorities provided by probability (and certainly by financial gain) are being shown NOT to match up with the potential consequences. The horror is that just as we can’t conceive of an appropriate solution to this problem we’ve caused, we also can’t conceive of the true impact. For all our smarts, our brains simply aren’t big enough to accurately predict that.

Dialogue is important. Sadly, it’s not always the product of this small world we live in. It’s not always the norm for friends living 17 states apart or issues entrenched an ocean apart. But, I think maybe that dialogue is our greatest hope for solutions.

From there OUR dialogue moved into less weightier topics and pleasantries, punctuated by something like…

Junkie: What were you thinking getting me started with both Jesus AND British Petroleum at the same time?

#17: A *smirk* I could read loud and clear across 17 states.

Moving

“The earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was moving over the surface of the waters.” (genesis 1:2)

“Though the earth was formless and void, God was busy. The universe was static, but His Spirit was not. He wasn’t waiting for administrative approval to take an active role in the grand, defining moment of history. He was in motion. Even in the darkness, God was making His presence known.”
~ Vernon M. Whaley, Called to Worship (2009)

You know how I love words, and I’m always curious about their origins. So… I looked up the Hebrew word used here, seeking more on the mysterious nature of this “moving” of God’s Spirit. It is transliterated rachaph, and the lexicon I read defined it as “to be moved, affected, specially–with the feeling of tender love, hence to cherish.”

Yes, that’s quite moving.