The Western Carolina mountains are the coldest climate I have ever lived in full-time. As it snows a few inches today (to my more northern friends; try not to laugh), my attention is turned to something God has been trying to get through to me, which I admit I have been reluctant to embrace.
I think I am willing to embrace the concept, but apparently not the practice of Sabbath. Rest. Slowing down. Being still. If I'm honest, I hate it.
A couple of months ago we experienced a natural disaster here in the Carolina mountains when hurricane Helene devastated this region. Many people lost their lives and we experienced catastrophic damage to our basic infrastructure systems. Personally our home was not damaged, but we didn't have power, signal, internet, or clean water for a couple of weeks. And we were some of the fastest back on the grid. We had friends that didn't have clean water at their home for two months.
During those days and nights we were forced to go to sleep when the sun went down, and realized the importance and necessity of clean water for survival when we would normally not think twice about having the luxury of turning on a faucet and having an endless supply of clean water, at temperatures that I can control no less. It was in this experience that I began to better detect my addiction to going, my aversion to slowing down.
Sure, for a few days it was nice to slow down and live so much more simply. But after that wore off, I found myself being incredibly restless. Feeling bad about not being productive. Missing the opportunities to tune out and be entertained by a screen. Wondering how people lived in the past without high-speed internet.
In this mountain climate that experiences a genuine winter (unlike where I grew up in Florida), the entirety of creation and the animal kingdom seem to slow down when the temperature drops and the hours of sunlight shorten. The bears around here hibernate, aquatic life slumber in the depths of the ponds and lakes, you rarely see birds fly around. Everything slows down ...
But not me. Not us. We continue to flip the switches of our electricity that give us light during all hours of dark, we fuel our engines and travel far distances in relatively small amounts of time (except for those of you that deal with nightmarish metro traffic everyday of your lives - my heart breaks with yours). And we continually scroll on our screens ... searching ... for God only knows what.
As the first snow falls here outside my house today, I am reminded of God's whispering call to me, "slow down ... be still. I am here." His call is bolstered by my own child's voice that recently ask,
"Daddy, do you have to work every day?" Ouch. 🤦♂️
I know that not everyone will necessarily share this same struggle, but for those of us that do ...