I heard of a town on the eastern seaboard that had lost its cable TV access. It was going to take a while to repair it. One day, by accident, a camera from the local station (the only station available) had been left on and it had been directed at a fish tank in the building. Soon, word got out and people by the score began turning on their sets to watch a fish tank.
All important. All good things because we are interacting with people — rejoicing for God’s activity amidst our fallen mess. Hurry out the door, take the trash, empty the dishwasher, do laundry, fix a meal and finally, hit the pillow. But the adrenaline doesn’t stop. The heart beats fast. The blood moves quickly. Is there a stop?
And then, in a cloud break of sanity, the word flashes through, “Be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46.10) What a counter-cultural assertion amidst our adrenaline overdosed lives! And yet, if I let those words sit; if I let them be still in the noise of my soul, something occurs.
Two possibilities exist that actually reject hurry, reject busyness. Two words leap and grab: “still” and “know.” I’m not sure I am ready to hear this, really. After all, I am a servant of God: things to do, a whole Bible to read, prophecies to study, meetings at the church to attend, homeless to feed. You get the picture! I am about my Father’s business.
And yet, in the midst of this maze-chasing, I can make the Father’s business about being busy for the Father. And no time to be still. No time to know. Just, well, just do it.
Further still, the audacity of the Author and writer to assert: hold on, there is another way of knowing. It isn’t about expanding territories or growing a church or pursuing mission. Oh man, this is hard. The Author and writer assert in these two words something so radical to my Western sensibilities that it may take me eternity to enter its power: there is a knowing in being still! The pursuit of learning. The quest for knowledge. The journey to developing as a follower of Jesus will at times require me to drop and stop. And be. Still. And in that stillness a knowing occurs that cannot occur from social media, small groups, sermons or helping the outcast. There is a power in stillness that provides the perfect environment for a different kind of knowing. A knowing found only in stillness. It may not require a physical desert. It may not require being alone, even. It is a stillness that can come in a crowd and just opening up the heart to Jesus as if He were (hold on, He is) a friend.
I heard of a town on the eastern seaboard that had lost its cable TV access. It was going to take a while to repair it. One day, by accident, a camera from the local station (the only station available) had been left on and it had been directed at a fish tank in the building. Soon, word got out and people by the score began turning on their sets to watch a fish tank.
Eventually when the repairs were completed and the cable was reactivated, the townsfolks noticed that that station was no longer available. Complaints flew in swifter than a swallow. And to their great joy, the cable company restored that station with a camera and a fishtank. They had found in that stillness a whole different kind of knowing — one that liberated them from the maze-chasing. One that opened them up to a learning they could not imagine — but one they could experience. Friends, this week, be still and know.
John Grys is president of the Illinois Conference.
