The day that the LORD has made:
rejoice!
I want terribly to please you in this day you made. I want to make something to signify that my part in this day is worthwhile. I want to be a maker, a producer of value, of meaning, of substance, of words and emails and books and resources and answers and results and measurable stuff. Because if I am a maker like you, then I will be sufficient and you won’t have to worry about me. Because if I am a maker like you, then you can be proud to see my making. And if you are proud, then I can rejoice. But first I have to make all. the. things.
The day that the LORD has made:
be!
I tried to beat you into this day, O God. I tried to get up before your light hit the horizon, so that your grace would not find me resting but working: trying trying trying, busy busy busy, never caught standing still. I can’t be still, else how would I know that I am being? You have set the bar for being too high — I cannot attain it. I cannot be with the beauty of the sunrise or with the trust of the sparrows or with the praise of a flower in bloom. This particular being is tired and frustrated and heartbroken. Do not ask me to be, only let me work.
The day that the LORD has made:
be in it!
You root my feet in time, you set my spirit in place, you bind my heart to memory. I long to be anywhere but in this day — to cut loose on the wings of a dream, to be paroled from daily demands for the pleasure of love and delight, to travel on the wild whims of eschatology for a taste of your magnificence that could become my grounding and my placement and my ties beyond the limits of these twenty-four tick-tocking hours. To be in it is less a challenge that it is the reality; to escape it is the prayer. O LORD, hear my prayer.
on Psalm 118:24