I don’t think of myself as a nervous person, but there are moments these days when I feel a tide of anxiety rising inside me. I’ve got a lot of questions about the future. I am sure you do, as well.
What tends to release the pressure valve in my psychology is to remind myself that, as it turns out, not everything depends on me. It’s as obvious, as it is easy to forget.
Especially in a season during which our physical movement is restricted, what we control is limited, and our abilities to work and connect are abridged, God gives us a chance to re-balance, placing peace on offer to us if we simply remember: We can’t do everything. We can’t do it everything perfectly. And we can’t do everything right now.
Peace. Pace. Limits.
As we begin to shift our thinking from the notion of a “new normal” toward a longer view of sustainability in this unusual time, I hope this week, these words will not only nudge you into a more durable rhythm for this season, but point you gently toward a path on which you may flourish anew. So, as you prepare to offer this prayer to God, find a quiet spot, relax your mind, and perhaps begin by whispering these words. Let them settle into your soul, expand your conscious presence of God, and begin to bring a slow healing to your busy, beating heart.
Peace. Pace. Limits.
God, I relax my grip. I’ve judged myself by standards unset by You, but by a measure which came from somewhere else. I release now all notions of my own indispensability. Instead, I rest in you. Breathe into me Your tranquility in this quiet moment. Your grace. Your abundant rest. Peace. Let it be.
Peace. Pace. Limits.
God, in this stillness, I ask not only that I may follow You in direction and in encounter, but in pace. Not too much. Not too little. Not too fast. Not too slow. May I be Christ-paced today. As the sunlight ebbs along, then out this day, I shall say to You this evening, it is night. What has been done has been done. What has not been done has not been done. Let it be.
Peace. Pace. Limits.
God, as I begin to understand the contours of these weeks, let me accept with humility my own limits. Refuel me in Sabbaths which I faithfully observe. Guide me to people on whom and to places on which I must lean. And finally, God, may I find in this season a thriving purpose, one which brings me into a full-heartedness of a purer and holier sort than I could have known before. Let it be.
Peace. Pace. Limits.
Amen.