In Pursuit of Slow Things: Unraveling
I am like a tightly wound ball of yarn, slowly unraveling. Slow rhythms of life refocus me on divine truths. These truths unwind the tightened internal knot that steals my peace. Truths that are refreshing in their simplicity, and their ability to loosen my fears. But these rhythms are often at war with the ever-spinning middle of me with harried pride that says busyness is the source of my worth. I am a knotted mess. Certain parts of me wound tight as always, other parts loose and hanging low, ready to be woven into something new. I am wrestling with thoughts about death and meaningful work, wrestling with weighty decisions, constantly tightening my grip on ideas and dreams, all the while knowing the harder I hold on, the more I need to let go. I am often desperate for answers about direction and clarity while I’m only told to sit still, BE still. As Ann Voskamp recently penned, “Sometimes we want more clarity when what we need is greater trust.”
Truths like these God uses to unravel me again, in an achingly beautiful way.
I am more suspicious than ever of the voices that tend to guide me, and dictate to me that I ought to make myself into something useful. I see with new eyes the social media window display of all the ways others look completed and I just feel, well, unfinished. Their picture perfect lives producing art, academics, usefulness, exploration, and beauty and I feel un-called. But whose calling am I after? The culture ever inundates me with messages, ever giving me new opportunities to yearn, to desire, to regret, to seek, to try to make myself into something I was never meant to be. The voice of jealousy ever breathing down my back, hot on my collar again, stirring up despair and disappointment. Why have I not been made into a beautiful garment yet? Like the others? Hurry up! But who’s the master maker anyways? Them or Him.
I am also more mindful than ever about the real me inside this ball of wool. Daring, hoping to be unveiled but so completely in need of Him to undo me and re-make me. I’ve never been more aware of how tightly I hold to this, my corner of the spool, not willing to relent control when the very act of relenting will make me into what I was made to be. I hate feeling uncomfortable and letting go means being loosened, stretched out, and made into something I cannot imagine yet.
When will I learn to trust?
There they are again, echoes of simple truths pounding within me like my heartbeat. Moments. Minutes. Noticing, be-ing, worshiping. The arc of the bamboo swinging over our home, creaking in the breeze. The whispered secrets of a 3-year-old, tickling my ear. The marvel of the human body, and all its inner workings displayed. All call for simple worship of the creator. But the worship lyrics are changing. I feel like everything I know about myself and my perspective is changing. But I am clinging to old ways, not sure how to be any different. I want to be different. I want to see. Truly see. But find I am blind. Blind to truths about God. So wound tight that I can not see what He is doing. What I thought I knew about Him is shrinking and shrinking, as I make way for the big-ness of who God really is. The neat confines I put Him in, and how He works are being demolished in light of the vastness of His mystery. I ponder the thought that even to Moses He was a cloud.
See? I am a knotted mess of string on a spool, a jumbled mess of words on paper, perplexed and perplexing. Only He can unravel me.
It is painful and beautiful to be in this middle tangled territory. I have been around enough to know sorrow that is deep and habits that are unhelpful, and emotions that are unyielding. Yet, I am not wise enough to have mastered these annoying commanders of the flesh.
My next step becomes so obvious that it’s almost disappointing. Just be unwound, untangled by His soft hands, and let Him make me into something of His own design? But it is taking too long. This journey is so incremental, so painfully slow moving, His work unfolding so carefully that I can actually miss it. And I will, if I keep spinning.
Calm this weary soul, Oh Lord. Unmake the me I’ve been to make the me you want me to be. Smooth out my kinks, untangle my fears, loosen my grip on all that I cannot control anyways. Make me into a beautiful garment in your hands.