Quiet Waters in Noisy Places
This morning I woke to the sound of noise. Lots of it. It had been a long night. My mind raced, kids were in and out of bed. I think I totaled three hours of sleep when it was all said and done. I had finally come down the to couch an hour or two before morning, hoping that at least Micah could sleep if I wasn't there tossing and turning. And then morning. Kids making requests, chattering at once. I crawled back up into my bed and pulled out my Bible. All I could think was Quiet waters. Where are these quiet waters? I opened my Bible to the twenty-third Psalm, almost desperate for some quiet, some refreshment for my soul.
The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he refreshes my soul.
I sat there, desperately trying to focus on the words as the boys burst through the door time after time with a thought that couldn't wait. Cora literally hung from my shoulder, crying and screaming in my ear. I read the words no fewer than fifteen times, because I couldn't get through a whole sentence at a time without interruption. I almost laughed.
Quiet waters? My life has been so completely full of everything but quiet waters lately that I'm almost desperate for silence! The voices start early, all clamoring for attention, all talking over each other, all seeking to be the loudest. The needs are endless. The days are full of one thing after another. And there's more. Life outside of my children has continued to rush on. Family hardships, friendships, obligations to fulfill. Even when the external voices are quiet, the noise in my mind is deafening.
It's not that I haven't recognized my need for quiet, my need for time away. I've gone to great lengths to find a space that's my own, to carve out time to be still. But life crowds in even there. Needs arise, and the quiet waters are turned turbulent again.
Oh, what I wouldn't give for an hour beside quiet waters. To lie down in green pastures. To know, in the stillness, that I lack nothing. To come away with my soul truly refreshed.
I was praying about all of this in the shower, asking God why it was that I had gone so long without a quiet place. I've tried, Lord. I've really tried. Where is this quiet pasture? How can I be refreshed? I'm aching for it.
I pictured David penning those words, stretched out on some lush lawn beside a playful brook. The sun shining down, a still breeze blowing. Peace. Quiet. Ah, the life of a shepherd.
And then I realized. That's not at all the life of a shepherd. I'm no expert when it comes to sheep, but I know they are far from quiet animals. The bleeting and butting and crying can be deafening. They're animals that are prone to stray, and his work would be constant: keeping them in line, providing for their young, protecting them. As long as David was working as a shepherd, I am sure, day or night, there was seldom quiet.
So how could he write those words? How could he talk about a green pasture, about a quiet place to refresh his soul? Is it possible that he found the quiet, the refreshment, amidst all the chaos and clamoring?
In some life stages, there is very little I can control. There is nothing I can do about the noise and the needs in this stage. But the quiet waters are still there. God is still leading me through green pastures--even amidst the noise--and quieting my soul. I may not get the physical silence I so long for, but he can refresh me even here. And I will soak up the seconds of quiet that come my way, the sun shining through the window, all of the kids quiet for just a moment. I will soak it up and thank him that I truly lack nothing--not even peace and quiet.
The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,
he refreshes my soul.
I sat there, desperately trying to focus on the words as the boys burst through the door time after time with a thought that couldn't wait. Cora literally hung from my shoulder, crying and screaming in my ear. I read the words no fewer than fifteen times, because I couldn't get through a whole sentence at a time without interruption. I almost laughed.
Quiet waters? My life has been so completely full of everything but quiet waters lately that I'm almost desperate for silence! The voices start early, all clamoring for attention, all talking over each other, all seeking to be the loudest. The needs are endless. The days are full of one thing after another. And there's more. Life outside of my children has continued to rush on. Family hardships, friendships, obligations to fulfill. Even when the external voices are quiet, the noise in my mind is deafening.
It's not that I haven't recognized my need for quiet, my need for time away. I've gone to great lengths to find a space that's my own, to carve out time to be still. But life crowds in even there. Needs arise, and the quiet waters are turned turbulent again.
Oh, what I wouldn't give for an hour beside quiet waters. To lie down in green pastures. To know, in the stillness, that I lack nothing. To come away with my soul truly refreshed.
I was praying about all of this in the shower, asking God why it was that I had gone so long without a quiet place. I've tried, Lord. I've really tried. Where is this quiet pasture? How can I be refreshed? I'm aching for it.
I pictured David penning those words, stretched out on some lush lawn beside a playful brook. The sun shining down, a still breeze blowing. Peace. Quiet. Ah, the life of a shepherd.
And then I realized. That's not at all the life of a shepherd. I'm no expert when it comes to sheep, but I know they are far from quiet animals. The bleeting and butting and crying can be deafening. They're animals that are prone to stray, and his work would be constant: keeping them in line, providing for their young, protecting them. As long as David was working as a shepherd, I am sure, day or night, there was seldom quiet.
So how could he write those words? How could he talk about a green pasture, about a quiet place to refresh his soul? Is it possible that he found the quiet, the refreshment, amidst all the chaos and clamoring?
In some life stages, there is very little I can control. There is nothing I can do about the noise and the needs in this stage. But the quiet waters are still there. God is still leading me through green pastures--even amidst the noise--and quieting my soul. I may not get the physical silence I so long for, but he can refresh me even here. And I will soak up the seconds of quiet that come my way, the sun shining through the window, all of the kids quiet for just a moment. I will soak it up and thank him that I truly lack nothing--not even peace and quiet.
