I am not sure when it happened. I don't think it took long.
Lines were drawn. Strategies set. Innumerable teams of one were strewn all over the field, separate but smiling.
Popularity is the referee and the trophy our souls.
Do you play the game?
You know the one. The one we all claim is healthy and lighthearted. The one that takes up most of our day, if only through little moments here and there. The one that allows us to fake our way through community and use others as little soul-props.
Social media is the new favored sport of the cities and suburbs.
Do you play?
The game is pretty and sleek with professionally tailored html buttons begging to be clicked. Turn the blue to green. Like for a like. Comment for a comment. Followers. Tweeters. Facebook stalkers. Blog lovin.
Like chain smokers, all of us, itching for that next hit.
My soul thirsts for rest while my hand reaches for the deafening flat screen that fits in my palm so perfectly. I gulp down quick comparison and vanity. Silently, subconsciously counting my stats.
Stats.
Nothing but stats. Every like, comment, and re-post promises to fill. But at the end of the day, we are just washed up players clutching yesterday's anemic statistics.
An invitation has been given.
It's big. It's bold. It's calm. It beckons us further and deeper in. There's not a hint of vanity attached to it. Vanity wants nothing to do with quietness and rest.
"Be still and know that I am God. "I am sufficient," says the Lord.
Sufficient for our striving.
Sufficient in our longing.
He is enough.
When our strung-out souls reach for the illuminated screen at every red light and spare moment, may we instead make a habit of remaining on the sidelines long enough to catch our breath. May we put down our toys and reach for the good, deep thing that quietness and rest is made of.
Be still my soul, and hope in Christ alone.
My heart has heard you say, "Come and talk with me." And my heart responds, "LORD, I am coming. Psalm 27:8
Lines were drawn. Strategies set. Innumerable teams of one were strewn all over the field, separate but smiling.
Popularity is the referee and the trophy our souls.
Do you play the game?
You know the one. The one we all claim is healthy and lighthearted. The one that takes up most of our day, if only through little moments here and there. The one that allows us to fake our way through community and use others as little soul-props.
Social media is the new favored sport of the cities and suburbs.
Do you play?
The game is pretty and sleek with professionally tailored html buttons begging to be clicked. Turn the blue to green. Like for a like. Comment for a comment. Followers. Tweeters. Facebook stalkers. Blog lovin.
Like chain smokers, all of us, itching for that next hit.
My soul thirsts for rest while my hand reaches for the deafening flat screen that fits in my palm so perfectly. I gulp down quick comparison and vanity. Silently, subconsciously counting my stats.
Stats.
Nothing but stats. Every like, comment, and re-post promises to fill. But at the end of the day, we are just washed up players clutching yesterday's anemic statistics.
An invitation has been given.
It's big. It's bold. It's calm. It beckons us further and deeper in. There's not a hint of vanity attached to it. Vanity wants nothing to do with quietness and rest.
"Be still and know that I am God. "I am sufficient," says the Lord.
Sufficient for our striving.
Sufficient in our longing.
He is enough.
When our strung-out souls reach for the illuminated screen at every red light and spare moment, may we instead make a habit of remaining on the sidelines long enough to catch our breath. May we put down our toys and reach for the good, deep thing that quietness and rest is made of.
Be still my soul, and hope in Christ alone.
My heart has heard you say, "Come and talk with me." And my heart responds, "LORD, I am coming. Psalm 27:8
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