I have always struggled with stillness.
And so, here lies
the irony: the pursuit of Rest,
the effort that it so often takes us to slow ourselves, is, in fact, the process of continuing to Run. While our Run–our daily tunnel visioning forward–can sometimes be the space where we set down our minds to Rest as the body moves.
Our displays of Rest and Run aren’t paradoxes
as much as they are ironies.
It is in God’s definition of Rest and Run that I think
the sweetly, simple paradox exists.
You see, we keep these words separate; we can widen the gap between the canvases and forever judge our Rest versus our Run. But the Lord…He sees the whole that is this painted pair–Not the hole between them.
Strewn across the gospel is the mystery: of being stilled while being sent, being anchored while being freed, taking in while pouring out. In the same way, my wiry blue lines are tugged back–held–at the very moment of being drawn–enabled–forward. As man’s handwriting unwinds amidst a page that is blank and vast and possible, my lines
grip into the heart of The Paradox of Rest and Run:
pulsing with and by and for
around them. It is a simultaneousness
resting and running
Though (graciously) tethered, the spirit’s motion is never one that lulls.