"All words are symbols that represent unspeakable realities. Which is also why words are magical." (Donald Miller tweet)

Monday, October 15, 2018

it's monday. i am well.

It's Monday.

Monday is a day when pastors often "crash". Meaning - we gave it everything we've got on Sunday, and Monday morning we wake up tired, and wonder if it mattered. Tuesdays are better again.

I don't crash nearly so often as I used to on a Monday.
I seem to have gotten better at riding out the ups and downs.
I'm thankful for that.

I saw last night that Eugene Peterson has begun receiving hospice care, and will likely be coming to the end of a long, faithful life on earth. I'm grateful for him. His memoir, "The Pastor" is one of those that shaped me. He has a beautiful way with words; and he managed to remind many of us that the daily, ongoing life of pastoring is gentle and kind and sacred. That we simply follow Jesus, and invite others to follow with us, even while navigating buildings and budgets and boards.

He will be missed.
But his has been a life well-lived.
His influence will live on.

This morning, knowing that I was crashing a bit, I dragged myself into my prayer space, not because I wanted to, but because I knew I needed to. I prayed. I read Scripture. Wept a bit. Ranted a bit. Sat silently for a bit.

Andie came too.
She likes to curl up on my lap in there.

And at the end, I realized that while my emotions were a little vulnerable, and my body was a little tired, and my brain was a little fried, and my jaw was a little sore from apparently clenching it last night, there was something deeper happening. It took me awhile to notice, because it was below the surface, and not clamouring for attention.

It was a song.

How great is our God
Sing with me, how great is our God
And all will see how great, how great is our God.

And it then blended into another song.

Then sings my soul, my Saviour, God, to Thee
How great Thou art!
How great Thou art!

And then another.

Death could not hold You
The veil tore before You
You silence the boast of sin and grave
The heavens are roaring
The praise of Your glory
For You are raised to life again

What a powerful Name it is
The Name of Jesus

And another.

You rescued me so I could stand and sing
I am a child of God.

And I realized that, even on a Monday, my soul is well. Shaped by years of worshipping, of living the rhythms of our faith, of absorbing Scripture, of praying, of communing with God. The physical and emotional fatigue are real, and self-care is important, and I do all of that,

I do, I promise.

But below all of that, deeper than that - my soul is well. My life's foundation is sure. I am at peace.

Onward.