with a long week almost finished and my worn-down heart spilling over, thursday had me sobbing in a co-worker’s cubicle and belting a teary, pitchy, ridiculous “fast car” driving home. too often, this is how i operate. i run around busy, tuning out the silence and avoiding the things i don’t feel like facing. if i never slow down, i never have to think about the changes that leave me constantly unsettled, about the unanswered questions that scare me or all the ways i’m coming up short. restless is my defense mechanism, but the thing about running is, you get tired. and the thing about the fears and questions and feelings is that eventually, they catch up.
the thing about jesus is this: he always stops me in my run-away tracks, reminds me that i don’t have to hide the things i’m afraid to acknowledge. that i can look them in the eye and know they don’t define me. that i can lay them before him, trusting him to love me anyway. that nothing in my world is bigger than his grace and good provision.
this morning, i forced myself to drink my coffee in silence. sitting down. in a chair. without my phone. no cleaning or doing or social-media scrolling. i’ve realized that a sure sign of restless avoidance in my life is a bunch of half-empty coffee cups. i make my coffee with every good intention, but then decide that i need to start the laundry or straighten up the house or spray paint the ikea picture frames i got three months ago and i need to do it all right now. i tell myself i’m much too busy for feeling, but the reality is that too often, i can’t sit with myself, with the things i don’t feel ready to face. i can’t sit with the spirit because i’m afraid of what might come up. “so, are you ready to talk about this bitterness you can’t shake?” no. “or the in-betweenness of this season that terrifies you?” no. “or what about this constant, nagging question of what is it you want to do with your life?” no. definitely no. i just want to be fine and feel no feelings and organize the living room, okay god?
he is having none of this from me. with this aversion to feeling comes an aversion to hearing his voice, and as it turns out, pretending you’re fine when you aren’t doesn’t do one ounce of good for anyone. god is making me face these hard things with every intention of healing me in the process, of making me more whole and more able to wholly love. he is teaching me to rest and wait and sit still long enough to hear his voice again, asking me to trust him more, making me brave that i might not fear even the things that make me cry. over half-finished cups of coffee, he’s speaking healing into the silence, offering rest to this restless heart. stop running scared and run home.