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  • Writer's pictureMollie Talbot

Reasons for Rush

Repentence. Rest. Quietness. Trust.

I’m hurrying through my hurt, coming away from my brief quiet times with small pieces of encouragement like “He’s the provider of the unsearchable,” “He weaponizes my weakness,” and “He didn’t promise the reason, He promised eternity.” I hold onto each of these truths like a talisman for about 15 minutes until they fade into the monotony of my other spinning thoughts and the unending distractions of Motherhood. The worst part: the author of these truths gets lost in the fog of my well-established pattern of rushing- of busy-ness and inevitable frustration.

So, I sit this morning with the intent of doing a type of solo lectio devina in this coffee shop and turn to google for a passage recommendation. I see Isaiah 30:15-21 and feel the familiar heart pull that is from the creator of the universe, the one we often chalk up to coincidence, luck, or chance. I dwell on this passage, listening to it with my eyes closed, eyes open, pen in hand, hands in lap- asking God each time to meet me in this coffee shop in Arvada, Colorado.

Well, He did. I felt compelled to search with God for the reason I rush; to define what gives me such an undercurrent of hurry. You can apply your own personal reasons for the rush but in my prayer journaling I wrote “I’m hurrying to find the lesson- which means I rush through, betraying myself and the growth that comes while waiting on you. I want to be a vacuum of knowledge, lessons, and experiences with You. I’m not afraid to jump in and learn those lessons personally- I just want them sped up so I can grow, conquer, stop the pain, and move onto the next lesson.”

What strikes me as sad is that I’ve forgotten the call placed on my life to be a Mother to two small boys and a step-mom to an 11 year old. I sit down to read while my toddler and infant are napping and have to swallow expletives when I hear my baby cry out. I instantly go to anger, not at him, not at God, but just anger. I have to find a source to focus my anger on so I choose the medical issues he’s been having with his stomach. Jumping on that train throws me into more distracted rushing to contemplate what I ate differently, if we should bottle feed him, if I’m pumping enough, if we should give gripe water or mylicon- which reminds me to research both of those to see which is more effective- or if this Prilosec is helping or hurting, or should we just go back to the Zantac. Maybe I’d be more peaceful if I just switched him to formula, but the emotional fall out there. I’m rushing now while bouncing a little boy who most likely would calm down and fall back asleep if I would sit on the couch with him- throw my book to the side and accept that God meets me with Huxley just as much as he does with the Gospel of John, or the sentiments of Henri Nouwen.

Why do I choose a pattern that consistently leaves me gasping for peace?

Isaiah 30. My lectio devina, swirled with the lessons He’s been teaching provide that obviously my way isn’t working. I know that growth will take discomfort on my part- that I’m not granted peace without changing the pattern.

“In rest and repentance is your salvation.”

I can safely say I’ve not repented for my rushed pattern of thinking. Even if I can just begin to prayerfully repent while holding Huxley asking mindfully for forgiveness and freedom from my habits of frustration and rushing. To ask Him to level my foundation, correct my neuro-pathways and help me make room for a graceful process of change.

“In quietness and trust is your strength.”

I’m not quiet. When I think, I think out loud but often only to my husband which not only isn’t fair to him, it’s not right for us. My thoughts are often critical and cynical- another area I need to take the shovel to. Further, my rushing through the lessons is a result of not believing that God’s idea of my welfare is as good as mine. Harsh, and true. I steer myself through figuring things out, forcing the lesson, hastening time to skip the pain- and it’s left me brittle and empty. What if I’m meant to physically bite my tongue for awhile. To stop my flight of thought from becoming verbally expressed. To allow God the time in my head and heart to change my cynical and critical first impressions. What if taking this difficult and sacrificial step will pave the way for the piece I can’t yet find a way to… my trust in Him.

I felt God impressing on my heart that these are my first steps. That after implementing rest, repentance, quietness, and trust- and accepting that these will take a lot longer than my approved timeline of growth- that this next scripture will be embodied by my life.

I wont be able to look away from his influence. The truths, teachers, lessons, and reasons will become clear to me. It says nothing of the timeframe and nothing of ease or peace… but I’ll know the WAY and I’ll be able to walk in it.

So I will pursue an unhurried, reserved, repentant, heart while making room for renewed trust- and inevitably, the confidence that his WAY will always supersede my reasons for rush.

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