Selah

Limbo. A place between. A place of suspension. A hovering place. It’s neither here nor there. And yet it’s somewhere, because that’s exactly where we are. Limbo sounds like an empty place, maybe even a quiet place, but in my world it is a place of chaos. And the chaos is loud, and the fear is louder, and the uncertainties and responsibilities are mounting and screaming. An incessant, crazy, assault – rising to such a crescendo, until what’s deafening is actually silence. And just as we think we’ve come through and our feet begin to find purchase at the other side, the tentative toe hold drops out from under us and we remain once again suspended in limbo.

Such is my reality right now. And it would be utterly disheartening, but for something I recently experienced. Selah. A different kind of suspension. A pause. Selah is the Hebrew word you will find woven throughout the Psalms that means a suspension (usually of music). It’s a pause, that allows one to thoughtfully ponder what was just heard, or read. A place to rest for a moment.

Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth! ~ Psalm 46:10 (ESV)

The summer went by far too fast and was fuller than I was envisioning. Hence, for the first time in almost 2 years, I missed posting a blog last month. The court stuff started with our little foster babe and then the continued adjournments and our future with him began to look far more uncertain than we hoped. Then came the call to fill in as emergency daytime respite for another foster family – another baby – for in indeterminate period of time. My house looked like it was ransacked. The laundry was backlogged by at least 3 weeks, the dishes piling unwashed on the counter since the dishwasher is broken, parenting challenges, relationship challenges, back to school prep…it went on. I felt like I was drowning – still do some days, if I’m honest – but stuff just kept coming and I felt the weight of saying “yes” yet again to the things that just felt right. Until I knew something needed to change. I couldn’t breathe. I needed space to just be. Alone. So, I did what any desperate, about to go insane mama would do – I checked into a monastery for the day.

I wish that I had known about this years ago. Here I was with 8 whole hours ahead of me. All mine. No responsibilities. No chores. No reminders of things that I should be doing while I put my feet up. And best of all…absolute silence. I spent those 8 hours without saying more than a handful of words to anyone (which, for those of you who know me, this was a BIG deal). 8 hours of stillness. 8 hours of Selah. And it was GLORIOUS! I took out my Bible and my journal and just let myself marinate in the Word for a while. I sat in the hush of the empty chapel and poured out my heart and my dreams and my fears to my Abba. I wandered the library and spent some time creating in the art room. I went for a 2 hour walk down the winding path through the woods and along the river and just enjoyed nature and communing with God. And in that time, my soul was refreshed and I realized what had been missing. That undefinable itch that couldn’t be scratched. I was missing Selah. Missing the pause. Missing REST!

Matthew 11:28-29 says  “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (NRSV)

Rest. So often I try to find that rest in doing things – taking a nap, reading a book, drinking a hot cup of tea, or heading out for an evening with a friend. And don’t get me wrong, self-care is important and we should take time to do things that rejuvenate us. But here in this retreat, I found myself being refreshed simply by being. Being with my Creator. Jesus said, “Come to Me…and I will give you rest”. That word rest is the Hebrew word anapauo meaning to repose, to refresh. When I am in the midst of doing, when I am going about my work, when I am growing weary in doing the good things I’ve been called to do, when I feel like I have heavy loads to bear, He says “Come to Me. I will give you rest”. I will give you refreshment – the giving of fresh mental or physical strength or energy. Who doesn’t need more of that? “Come to Me…” As I began to meditate on this, knowing that I all too often run to the chocolate stash or the tv show or the mindless scrolling on social media – before I do the coming – I realized that Jesus doesn’t stop with just “Come”. That’s just the first step. In the next verse He takes the time to spell out just how to live in this place of rest.

Take my yoke…

Here in North America, a yoke is not something we are familiar with and so it can be easy to gloss over what He is saying in this passage, but Jesus is using an example that was very familiar to His audience. A yoke was used, usually with cattle or oxen, to plow fields, pull heavy loads, move objects, etc. A yoke harnessed two animals together to pull as a team, distributing the force needed to complete a task between the two, so that they were stronger and able to accomplish far more than any one could alone. It also provided companionship in the work and was often individually fitted to the animals using it. A yoke was also used as a symbol of submission and servitude.

So many times when God calls us to something, we can say “Yes” in the moment. But how do we keep saying “Yes”? When the going gets tough? When our strength seems like it’s fading and our endurance is in short supply? We might start out strong, but begin to tire and lose our momentum after a while, sometimes even wondering if we are doing the right thing or going the right direction after all. Jesus said to take up His yoke, meaning he never intended for us to walk alone in the “Yes”. When He calls and we accept, He has already taken on the yoke – we are merely invited to join Him. But it has to be voluntary. We have to take up the yoke. He will never force us, but He promises to go with us every step of the way and carry the load, and sometimes even us, right alongside Him.

Learn of me…

There is always a dominant animal in any yoke. One that takes the leads and heads the “partnership” within the yoke and provides direction to the other. In training a new ox, it is not unusual to put an untrained animal in the yoke with an older and more experienced one. The mature ox is then able to model by example and calm and steady the young one as it learns the commands of the master and to walk in harness. If we take the Master’s yoke, we submit to His authority and His guidance. We are to learn from Him. Follow His example. And what did Jesus do while He walked the earth? Whatever His Father bade Him. He was obedient to all that His Father asked of Him. But…He also never did anything in His own strength. He leaned on His Father. He relied on Holy Spirit. He communed with His Father daily. He took time away to meditate and to pray. Jesus knew the value of Selah. PAUSE. And knowing this, He frequently modeled that for His disciples.

In Mathew 14, still dealing with the news of the murder of John the Baptist and after feeding the 5000 and teaching and ministering all day, Jesus sent His disciples across the lake to the other side without Him. He was tired. He was depleted. He was grieving. So, He took time to be refreshed. He went to spend time with His Abba. And then the storm came, whipping the placid sea into fomenting, turbulent waves. And His disciples were stranded in the middle of it all. So, what does Jesus do? Looks out and sees them in the mess, and goes to them on the water! Doing the impossible. But I think we need to pay close attention to when Jesus walked on the waves. In the middle of the storm. He did so, after He had been in prayer. After His time away. When He was refreshed and renewed to continue what His Father had called Him to do.

Following His example and doing the impossible, Peter stepped out of the boat at His call – but he only stayed above the waves while his eyes were fixed on Jesus. He may have faltered for a moment and started going under, but when he returned his focus where it needed to be, when he cried out to Jesus, He was instantly there. Taking him up and getting into the boat with him, the wind ceased. Selah. And they continued on their journey to where they were going. When we follow in the footsteps of the Master, He rushes to meet us in those moments we purposely carve out to focus on Him. He gives us the rest that we so desperately need – even as we continue on the journey laid out for us!

Matthew 11:29 ends with Jesus saying that if we do these things – if we come to Him, if we take up His yoke, if we learn from HIm – we will find rest for our souls. The word rest here (anapousis) means intermission, recreation. Pause. A cessation. So, our minds can be at rest from our anxious thoughts. So our hearts can be refreshed in our journey. So that even in Limbo, we can find Selah. Knowing that we are held. Knowing that in our “Yes”, He bears the weight with us. And so when He calls us to come a little deeper, even if we feel we’re already drowning, we can say “Yes” again. And we find our footing in Him. Above the waves. Never alone. And the Peace that makes no sense surrounds us there.

This season is hard. Saying “Yes” again and again is hard. The uncertainty is frustrating and seemingly unending. But we press on. We wait in hope. Holding onto the One that bears with us. The One Who helps us find the Selah in our chaos. When we stop and make the time to be still. When we come. When we take His yoke. When we stop struggling to do it on our own and learn from the Master. Yes, I may still be in limbo, but I’m finally learning to rest.

I pray you find your Selah too.

There is at the heart of silence a Sacred Presence. Some where, sometime, we have heard it’s echo in our hearts. We’d like more of it, but we tell ourselves that someday, when we have fewer responsibilities, we’ll find ways to tune in more often. Or, we tell ourselves, only great saints or people off in desert retreats have the luxury of cultivating it. The rest of us, we say with a sigh, can only experience it on rare occasions. It’s not true.

John P. Gorsuch – An Invitation To The Spiritual Journey (pg. 84)