I live in a city that is never quiet. It feels like no matter how early I get up or how late I stay up, there is always noise happening around me. I’ve spent the last decade of my life in a bustling city, so in some ways there is familiarity and safety in that. But recently, as I have tried to sit on my porch and spend some time with God, I find my anxiety being heightened from the constant construction, the traffic, the people walking by, the dogs barking…all normal noises, but never ceasing.

Until 3 AM.

One of the unexpected benefits of helping with my newborn grandson’s middle of the night feedings is the absolute silence and stillness that is around. As my friend said this morning, there’s something special “Reading about God’s presence, in the quiet of the wee hours, while you’re being present with your kids (who need rest) and your grandbaby (who needs nourishment).” Somehow, in the stillness that is the aftermath of the bottle and with a baby sleeping in my arms, I can hear Him and his presence more clearly (despite the sleep deprivation.)

One morning, as I sat marveling at this new being that takes my breath away, I said out loud, “You are so amazing.” That very moment, I felt God say to me, “Daughter, this is how I feel about you.” Max can do nothing for me – he literally relies on us for everything, including nourishment, clothing, a safe place to sleep, and cleaning off a poopy butt! There is nothing he is doing, no performance he is putting on. Yet I cannot get enough of this little guy. I wake up sleepy, but excited to have the privilege of feeding him and getting some cuddles. Max doesn’t need to do anything to earn my love – just being here is enough.

For some reason I have a hard time believing this about God’s love. Even as Shawn is reading the Westminster Shorter Catechism to Max (might as well start them young), I am reminded that the chief end of mankind is to glorify God and enjoy him forever. As I gaze at Max, emotions run deep and overflow. I’ve always known I was God’s daughter, but somehow in that I pictured myself as an independent daughter – running around, laughing, talking, being able to do things for myself and him, but not needing too much help from him. However, now I have this picture in my mind of being an infant, nestled in his arms and all my needs being provided – even my dirtiness being washed off – as I sleep in peace. He just wants me to come ready to be with him. He just wants my presence.

As I have been sitting with Max I’ve been reading a book called, “Every Breath We Take,” by Terry Wardle. This week I have been on vacation from my full-time job, and Shawn and I are both on Sabbatical from church ministry until the end of the month. I didn’t realize how exhausted I was in ministry, trying hard, striving, wanting to prove my worth – to God, others, and myself. I need time for healing and for restoration of joy. But I lack the ability to rest. It isn’t just a busy schedule. While I believe that God does want me to look at some priorities and make more space for this, my inability to actually rest came from something deeper, yet I could not put my finger on it.

Then I read this: “Rest is fundamentally about trust. You are called to actively believe that God is deeply connected to you and promises to be the source of fulfilling your deepest longings in life. What you are incapable of securing through a lifetime of performing and pleasing, God has given you by grace through faith in Christ. You are loved, accepted, secure, significant, understood, and have purpose. This is a done deal in Christ, and God invited you to enter that rest with him. Today, whether your worst day of following Christ or your best, these things are true of you. That is the heart of this breathtaking Gospel of grace.” (Emphasis mine)

Rest is about trust. Is God really enough? Will he do what he says he will do? Is he really who he says he is? And how does all of that play out in my life – for me, my purpose, my joy, my needs, my desires? Can I really just be in the moment – the present – and enjoy my Father and his great love and joy of me? Can I rest in his arms as he smiles at me, delighting in his creation, and says, “You are so amazing,”?

So I am practicing! Practicing being in the present and being present. My ADHD brain is all over, my exhaustion right now (that was present even before late night feedings) sometimes makes my brain feel like mush. But each time I wander, I stop and (without self condemnation) intentionally turn my mind and heart back to him – in this moment. I’m making a practice of intentionally looking at this very moment and not letting my heart go to the questions and anxieties about future things with my kids, my family, my ministry, my finances, my health. In this moment, He is here. I want to know the joy of that again, so that I can truly rest.

So, here I am, Lord. I’m yours. I am aware of your presence with me, even if it looks or feels different than it has in the past or it will in the future. And it is enough.

“Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it. Prone to leave the God I love. Here’s my heart, Lord, take and seal it. Seal it for thy courts above.” (Hymn: Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing)