Sit down, Be Still

I'm a half-hearted puzzle enthusiast - half-hearted in that, when I dump out a box of puzzle pieces, it's a little discouraging at first to sort through 5,500 tiny pieces, most looking exactly alike, to find the straight edges. The enthusiasm comes in when the pieces begin to fit together and the picture takes shape. Every time a puzzle piece clicks smoothly into the exact place designed for it, there comes a little thrill of encouragement, and I try for one more. And then one more. And then one more.

Sometimes, especially with the larger puzzles (and smaller pieces), I'll find two shapes that fit almost correctly... but not quite. They don't snap together exactly as they should, but they're so close, I can't even tell the difference. When the puzzle is completed, I've got one final piece that doesn't fit anywhere, because another piece I'd put into the wrong place is messing up the whole picture. The piece has a home, but it's not living there. It's in the wrong place, and if I were the puzzle piece, even if it looked as though I were in the place I needed to be... I'd feel all the wrong edges pressing into the wrong spots. Like the effects of a pebble in my shoe, those spots would chafe.

2 Corinthians 4:1-10 talks about this discomfort and the longing we have to be at home, in our true belonging place. In verses 6-8, it says: "Therefore, we are always confident and know that as long as we are at home, we are away from the Lord. We live by faith, not by sight. We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord."

I often feel like that wonky puzzle piece: in the wrong place, my edges chafing a bit against my boundaries. Nevertheless, I am a part of the picture the Lord is putting together, and make no mistake: He has a master plan, and He is orchestrating it to perfection. So wherever I end up, that is the place, the exact place, that I am supposed to be. 

Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, there were two sisters. One sister was a mover and a shaker. She had an impressive work ethic, and if anyone needed anything, she would have been the one to call. She worked tirelessly, with a heart as big as all outdoors, to make sure the people in her circle of hospitality were taken care of.

The other sister was quiet and reserved. She liked to think deeply, reflect, ponder, and enjoy experiences. While she, too, could display a good work ethic, her priority was to quiet her thoughts - first.

One day, a well-known Visitor and some of His friends came to the house of the sisters. The first sister immediately dove into the tasks she knew would be required of a good hostess. There was a large meal to be prepared, dusty feet to wash, and consequently, tubs of water to be filled from the well. A table needed to be spread, perhaps even sleeping arrangements to be prepared; it was likely a small-ish house, certainly compared to American standards, and this Man and His entourage took up a good bit of space.

The sister was busy, sweating, preparing. She rarely stopped moving as the important Visitor and His friends talked and laughed in the main room. He was so well-known, even the neighbors and people in the village were stopping by to "borrow sugar," ostensibly, but really just wanting a peek at the man. 

Star-struck, obviously.

Where was the woman's sister? Oh. There she was.

Sitting on the floor in front of the Man. Not chopping vegetables. Not preparing bedrolls. Not putting food on the table. Not cleaning dusty feet. Just... listening.

Sister #1 snapped. I've had that snap before; it's the kind that makes your eye twitch just a bit when the inner rage boils over. 

"Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!"

Oh, how I identify with this sister, whose name was Martha. How I want to move and shake for the kingdom of God. How I want to do! How ineffective I often feel when I just... sit still. Lord, I cry with all the passion in my heart, use me. 

The thing is, that's exactly what Mary, the still sister, was praying. Lord, use me. The only difference is, rather than bustling through the kitchen and bedroom and outdoors and walking past Jesus a thousand times in her hurry, she'd taken the time to sit. Pause. Listen. Pray.

How I've heard this a thousand times in recent months. Innumerable pieces of information slamming into my thoughts as the world falls apart in panic. The sky is falling, the sky is falling! There are so many things to do, so many needs to be met, where to even begin to take care of them all!?

And how I hear Jesus' compassion in this answer: "Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her."

He understood Martha's heart's desire. I'm worried, Lord. I'm upset. Don't you understand that there are things that have to be done?!

But He also knew the necessity of pointing out the priority to the busy, harried, stressed, and distressed Martha: Where is your home, Martha? Is it in the doing? Or is it in the being? 

Please don't misunderstand me; the message here is not a get-out-of-work-free card. It's not excusing laziness or inactivity. It is pointing out the necessity of Jesus first, Everything Else second. When we have found that quiet place in front of the Lord, that's where our home is, and from that place is where our effectiveness stems. I have no doubt that Mary got up to help Martha after she'd first had some time to listen and reflect on Jesus' teaching. But when she got up, her heart resounded what the things she'd learned, and her effectiveness was greater.

Exodus 14:13-14 says: "Moses answered the people, 'Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today, you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.'"

Like Mary, let's keep our attention on the place it's supposed to be, not on the chaos and the people surrounding us. Not one of them can offer us a home with edges that don't chafe, no matter how glittering that place is. Isaiah 2:22 says: "Stop trusting in man, who has but a breath in his nostrils. Of what account is he?"

Our home is eternal, and the place to find it is sitting at the feet of Jesus. 

When the world says: "Your home is your economic situation, your shortage of funds. Panic, panic!"

Nope.

When the world says: "Your home is who you vote for, and good luck deciding on the available candidates. Panic, panic!"

Nope.

When the world says: "Your home is the measure of vitriol you use against people who think differently from you, and the more vitriolic, the better; it'll show everyone how important these issues are to you. Panic, panic!"

Nope.

When the world says: "Your home is a country struggling to survive November, a country so terribly divided that what used to be unthinkable - a second civil war - now does not seem entirely impossible. Panic, panic!"

Nope.

My home is at the feet of Jesus, listening intently to His voice. I pray that you find your home there, too. There's room for every last one of us.