It is evening, almost time for bed, and I long for peace and for hope. I enjoy going to bed in peace. And I know that is what God wants me to have - a peace that there can be no explanation for. An other-worldly peace. Peace that doesn't require a summoning of the will: just a gentle, restful, stillness. The kind I had when it was just me and one of my three babies, nestled into the rocking chair, singing Jesus Loves Me and rock-a-bye baby. The quiet of those nights was precious and perfect. And if I had only known how fleeting they would be, I would have lingered just a tad bit longer. I would have reveled in them, not wishing the night would give way to morning quite so quickly.
If I had only known...
Those words, in some form or the other, haunt us all, if we are self-aware and older than 16. I had mastered them by that age but had no idea just how much I would utter them over the years.
If I had only known...
I would have guarded my heart like the beloved thing that it is. It would not have been given away like a piece of cheap jewelry you buy from a second-hand store. And I would have guarded my body if I had known it was the temple of God, belonging only to Him. Even after I knew, if I had only done the more difficult, obedient thing. I would have guarded my time and my treasure. I would have given more and complained less.
But what is that they say about hindsight? We see perfectly when looking back, but not so much as in the here and now. The here and now can be filled with the heart wanting what it wants. Instant gratification. All the things we think we need. All the pretty things wrapped up in shiny packages that entice and tempt and deceive.
Funny thing about the here and now is it is the here and now but for a blink of the eye. And then it is yesterday, too. And yesterday became the past with days, weeks, and years, all accumulating so fast that we can’t even remember many key details. Or moments. Because we are waiting, wanting, or deserving the next thing. Getting the next thing, albeit it a lover, a job, a house, or a fortune, leads one thing to the next then the next then the next. Until that sweet peace of the nursery fades so far from view, we must strain our eyes and our heart to gain a glimpse of it.
So, we may, in a sweet moment of reflection or self-awareness, decide to be better, to do better. To let the here and now be more about HERE and NOW. To listen more than trying to force our selfish way. To really hear what others have to say. Instead of simply listening with the intent of waiting to talk, to be heard, to be right.
What if I, if you, could slow down and just be with others, not uttering any words at all. Merely sitting with another and lifting their burden for a quiet afternoon or evening. Coming alongside of them, putting an arm around their shoulder, saying "It may not be okay, but it will be." And believing it as much for us as for them. What if we took a moment to see God in each person, as all are image-bearers of the Most High.
How often do I see God in the one who has broken my heart or cut me off in traffic or has different political beliefs than me? If I could do some of these things, it would be a great first step to getting past all the "I wish I had knowns" in my life. Or at least a few.
And a start is simply that: a start. You don't get from Step 1 to Step 20 in a heartbeat. It takes time. And intention. And grace and mercy and love and forgiveness, all things that are in short order these days. But they don't have to be.
So tonight, before I close my eyes, I will claim that peace. I will put to bed all the noise, distractions, pain and hurt. Tonight, I will claim His perfect, precious peace.
Good night.