As we are only a few houses down from one end of our street, there’s a traffic signal bringing vehicles to a halt before giving their occupants the green light to go on about their day. Every once in a while, there will be quite a few car horns unleashed that can be easily heard through our open widows: some of the blaring is in a staccato-like (short and detached) fashion; others are more long and drawn out, which makes me wonder if it’s even going to work the next time the driver wants to use it. Now, I’m obviously not setting up shop at the end of our block to take notes in some unscientific attempt to psychologically analyze human beings in their respective vehicles as to what all the fuss is about.
I can only assume (which is oftentimes dangerous to do, I know) that some of the drivers are trying to let another one know about the green light that just appeared. Others may be frustrated of the passivity of some not turning left onto our street until there’s virtually no traffic coming the other direction. Who knows? Maybe some drivers are on their phones more. Maybe many more are staring off into space as they wait for that sought-after green light.
Regardless, the blaring makes me wonder if the all-around stress level continues to grow for humanity We all have our respective limits as to how much we can take with all the decision-making to be had, not to mention car and house maintenance, and everything else on the life plate. The Sabbath is meant to help recharge and refocus, but I don’t think God ever intended the necessary rest-filled and life-enhancing introspection to be limited to one day a week.
It reminds me of when I was leading the adult Sunday school class back with the first congregation I served with after seminary; we were talking about spirituality. I had all of us gathered around those tables to take a few minutes of absolute silence (…quite honestly, it may have only been a minute, but it felt longer…and it’s not like it was complete silence anyway with those young feet moving around above us in the younger Sunday school classes). I remember after we were done with our elementary attempt at spirituality (a deepening awareness and intentional connection with the Divine) and asking the group how they thought it went: it was rather difficult, to say the least.
We don’t do the whole silence thing very well…well, many of us don’t. And yes, we could go into how much we are overloaded with technology, or how some of us grew up in households that everyone always had to be doing something, or how we need some kind of stimulated distraction from any silence that may lead us to thinking about whatever stresses of life, or plenty of other reasons why we struggle with the, evidently, foreign-concept so much. We can’t even handle it all that well in worship. After all, it really means a worship leader isn’t paying attention or something technologically isn’t working to give us that desperately needed filler.
But, back to that class: I, then, had them listen to a song, one that I remembered singing in my college choir. It is actually based on a poem written by Sara Teasdale, who became famous in American literary circles in the early 20th century, and even won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry (although, it was called the Columbia Poetry Prize back in 1918).
There will be rest, and sure stars shining
Over the roof-tops crowned with snow,
A reign of rest, serene forgetting,
The music of stillness holy and low.
I will make this world of my devising
Out of a dream in my lonely mind.
I shall find the crystal of peace, – above me
Stars I shall find.
Teasdale’s words are now sung in a variety of choral arrangements, but what makes the words all the more haunting, in a way, is that they were written only months before the famed poet committed suicide in 1933, as she struggled with depression. Not much is known behind the exact circumstances of “There Will Be Rest,” but many wonder if she was desperately searching for that “crystal of peace,” reaching for the serene stars above, thinking the only rest she could find was through such a sad ending to her life that provided such an empowering voice for women.
Unfortunately, far too many people have believed the same for their own life, including through this social climate that has raised anxiety and stress levels, to put it rather mildly. Many of us continue to search for that seemingly elusive “crystal of peace” amidst a noise-filled world. While others are not so interested in peace at all, really, but just getting from A to B as quickly as possible or trying to gain some sense of control over their lives, school, work, worship, recreation activities, etc., and the rest of the world doesn’t seem to be cooperating.
One of the points that I attempted to make with that Sunday school class years ago is what I believe to be a vital Lutheran perspective on spirituality, in whatever healthy form we attempt to engage with God on a deeper and meaningful level: it’s not that you have to close your eyes and be quiet for however many minutes (what may seem like an eternity for some of us) in order to “find” God. No, God’s already there. God is there in your life, in your heart, in the depths of your soul. You don’t have to “find” God. And, if that’s the case, you don’t have to find some almost mythical “crystal of peace.”
That line that often comes up from preachers or during worships in general about “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding…” (Philippians 4:7) is not on beyond-our-reach cathedral rooftops or in the far-off distant stars or in the heavens above. It’s there: it’s in you, it’s in your heart, it’s in the depths of your soul. Granted, we could do our fair share of raising our awareness of that Great News, and we could, also, do our fair share of making sure others know it, too, including the ones who feel as if God has passed them by, as if God and the world has given up on them. We still have work to do: precious, holy work, at that. And so, may we find our rest-filled moments (not just on the Sabbath) to better share that brightest crystal of peace shared o so beautifully with us in Jesus Christ, our still, Risen Savior and Lord. Amen!
In Christ,
Pastor Brad
For a video of “There Will Be Rest,” an arrangement by Frank Ticheli, please click here.
Frank Ticheli conducting his own work, “There Will Be Rest,” with the Georgia State University Singers; November 8, 2011, Rialto Center for the Arts, Atlanta, GA.