empty chairA few days ago I returned to my winter prayer spot. When the weather gets colder, many birds migrate south; I migrate to the guest room. The sun streams into our guest room in the mornings, and in the summer we keep the shades closed all day long. As the weather cools in the fall, however, we open the east facing shades, and I love to sit in the sun for my prayer time. Sometimes the warmth lulls me to sleep, but most of the time it’s a soothing heat that reminds me of the warmth of love that constantly bathes me in its light—if I will only be open to it!

Sometimes the sun entices me to stay in that chair, even after my prayer time is technically over. Resting in that chair, in the sun, can be rejuvenating for me, but also calming. There is something about opening ourselves to God’s light that stills the frantic pace of our thoughts, our worries, our agendas and our distractions.

Resting is something that our culture does not appreciate. Children these days are seldom taught the value of stillness and silence—and yet, when given the opportunity, they quickly come to appreciate it. Before long, they even crave those moments of stillness and silence. Within each of us is a craving for rest, and we need to pay attention to that desire. Without it, we become a human doing and lose touch with our human being.

This week I invite you to intentionally seek a rhythm of doing and being, of activity and rest. Do you take a day of rest during the week? That concept of rest, of Sabbath, is one of the earliest practices modeled in the bible—and modeled by God, no less! We are invited to “go and do [and be!] likewise.”

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