The world today seems to be a collection of a thousand moving parts, each spinning at its own frantic pace. Between the rhythmic thud of soccer balls, the bright excitement of prom, the quiet anticipation of college tours, and the steady labor of yard work, the modern family is a complex dance of coordination. It is a life that often feels like it requires a giant whiteboard in the heart of the kitchen—a living flowchart just to track where every soul is at any given hour. I still think back with a smile to our old neighbors, the Jeters, and their twelve children; Suzy and I used to marvel at how they navigated the simple logistics of a morning shower, let alone the choreography of a dozen different lives.
But as we turn the corner into this coming week, the calendar begins to fill with names that carry a different weight: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and the great crescendo of Easter. It is a season of such profound spiritual output that many who lead our congregations must negotiate for their rest in the weeks that follow.
In the midst of all these moving parts, I offer a gentle invitation to something different: the practice of stillness.
My point in mentioning the “overwhelming” nature of our activities is to remind us that God is rarely found in the whirlwind. More often, He is in the thin silence that follows. I hope that somehow, in the coming days, you can find a way to be still—not just physically, but in your spirit. Seek the very Peace that the Lenten season is meant to cultivate. For it is in the quiet, when the “moving parts” of our lives finally come to a rest, that we are truly closest to the Divine.
Even if you have to mark that time on your calendar as a formal appointment—carving it out from the chaos of the schedule—do not skip it. Allow the machinery of the world to hum along without you for a few moments. Rest in the stillness and be with God. As the world hums with activity, remember the promise of the Psalmist: “For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation.” In that hollowed-out space, you will find a comfort and a strength that the busiest day could never provide.
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