Abandoning Hurriedness

A few years ago, I ordered my grandmother a new copy of the devotional book, “Quiet Moments with God.” She had used hers to the point that it was falling apart. Evidently, when I gave her the new book I asked if I could one day have the old one. My mom handed it to me on Monday night after returning from a one week visit to Jacksonville. I smiled as I looked at all of the underlining and dog-eared pages that G-mama left in the book. I imagined her reading each day’s devotion and God speaking to her as she read. For some reason, these moments of imagination have filled me with a quiet sense of peace.

This week, our pastor asked us to fast from hurriedness. This fast has undoubtedly meant different things to different people, and for me it’s been a calming of my spirit. I have been breathing more deeply and attempting not to rush around. Even though I have been late waking up most mornings, I have returned to my bedside each day to read the pages from G-mama’s old devotional book. I usually do my devotional reading at night, but this week I have added an intentional morning prayer-time.

This morning, I considered skipping my prayer-time. But in the spirit of fasting hurriedness, I didn’t. And I’m so glad I didn’t. As I read, my prayer was this:

Almighty God, help me be a creative thinker today. I know that beyond my education and experience there are solutions to problems I will not think of without your gift of knowledge.

I think of times in the past when I’ve received this supernatural gift. You revealed answers to problems that I had not achieved with my own analysis. As I prayed faithfully and waited patiently, the startling “Ah-ha!” dawned on me. You gave me insight I could never have grasped by myself. By divine inspiration you helped me know what was happening beneath the surface of perplexities or relational conflicts. You allowed me to see what you see. I gave you the credit and the glory.

Now as I begin this day, once again I confess how much I need the gift of knowledge. People I love are troubled by complex problems. I want to give them more than my limited advice. Unsolved problems have a way of piling up. Please use me to discover and communicate your answers.

Thank you for transforming my imagination so that it can be a holy river-bed through which you can pour your creative ideas. Help me picture reality from your perspective and then claim what you want. I look forward to an inspired day.

Yesterday, after teaching three classes of students who were wildly and somewhat disrespectfully energetic, I found myself standing in the midst of a fourth class of the same. As I rested my hands on my baby file cabinet and hung my head in momentary defeat, I breathed in and out, praying for the students chattering around me, praying that God would give me wisdom to know what to say to them. After a few seconds, I quietly raised my head and said, “Boys and girls. I need you to know that I am feeling a little frustrated right now.” Not knowing what to do with my emotional confession, the students asked me why I was frustrated. I told them that I had already had three classes that had not made good choices and that they we doing the same. I asked them to forgive me for my frustration but to understand how discouraging it is when students refuse to listen. In the momentary shock of silence, I continued with class.

Later, as my students and I talked, one of them raised her hand and asked, “Why don’t you yell at us, Miss D?” Inwardly smiling at her confusion and rejoicing that she had noticed my lack of raised voice over our three weeks together—that have not been without major challenge—I responded, “Well. One. I don’t like yelling because it hurts my voice. But, two. I don’t want to yell at you. You’ve been yelled at too much, and I think there are other ways to communicate with you.”

I don’t know if anyone will remember that conversation but me. But what I do know is that People I love—students and parents and teachers—are troubled by complex problems. I want to give them more than my limited advice—more than 40 minute music lessons and more than momentary periods of relief. Unsolved problems have a way of piling up—years of neglect, months of feeling uncared for, days and nights of stress, weeks of feeling unappreciated—and I need something beyond myself to discover and communicate God’s answers of silence, grace, redemption, and love.

Fasting hurriedness helped me find that something beyond myself today…

And then it gave me five minutes to laugh at my dad who graciously made me a ham sandwich for lunch and then packed it in a gallon-sized, standing bottom, Ziploc Christmas bag. I still laugh when I think about it…and I then smile when I think about the six good reports that I gave teachers today.