Friday, May 18, 2012


NOISE.  While I sit here in Dunkin Donuts, trying to gather my thoughts, I'm missing my home away from home, my beautiful Starbucks across from Rock City, atop Lookout Mountain, Tennessee.  I miss the quiet.

Right now the phone is blaring, customers are lining up like cows, the police just arrived, the TV is blaring news about Trevon Martin, the radio is on (you wouldn't know it unless you knew to listen to it), and two individuals in their late middle age are having a discussion right behind makes me think they're on their first date (you know, the really embarrassing kind).  Everything screams distraction.  Nothing says focus.

And here I am trying to figure out where I am.  I'm an emotional storm of craziness on days like this.  Trying to be still for me would be like trying to shut down this Dunkin Donuts.

That's why it is good, really good, that God calls us to "be still and know that He is God."  If I had the permission to run my pace, I'd simply run myself into the ground every day.

Not that I'm particularly energetic, quite the opposite in fact, but I find the energy when I'm scarred.  I run from feelings I don't  like, I run from tasks I don't want to do, I run from people I don't want to engage with, I run from my past and I run from my perceived future.  I've got a lot of energy for running away.  I'm very much like the knights in Monty Python's "Search for the Holy Grail" who upon seeing the dreaded white rabbit, all run away screaming "Run away!"  I suspect my dreaded white rabbit is me.

Right now, I guess I feel like this Dunkin Donuts store.  A buzz of activity but a hollowness of purpose.  Or at least little more purpose than cake and sugar.

Surely there's a life of peace to strive for.  A life of one thing at a time.  A life of purpose and measured intent.  A life of deliberation.  A life of liberation.

I'm meeting with some guys today, who share from their brokenness and hurt, and who take steps to draw close to and push each other towards God.  It's a great thing.  It's a scary thing, something I want to run from.  It's very difficult on days like today to want to go, when I know I'm going to be walking in like a storm, all buzzing and blaring.

But the God who calls me to be still, who calms the storm within and without, can bring peace even in the turmoil of life.  That's a promise that I plan on hanging my running shoes on today.