Psalm 8 (LEB)
1 Yahweh, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth, who put your splendor above the heavens.
2 From the mouth of children and infants you have founded strength on account of your enemies, to silence the enemy and the avenger.
3 When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars which you set in place—
4 what is a human being that you think of him? and a child of humankind that you care for him?
5 And you made him a little lower than heavenly beings, and with glory and with majesty you crowned him.
6 You make him over the works of your hands; all things you have placed under his feet:
7 sheep and cattle, all of them, and also the wild animals of the field,
8 the birds of the sky and the fish of the sea, everything that passes along the paths of seas.
9 Yahweh, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all of the earth!
I’ve already had two double-shot espresso drinks this morning, so it would be irresponsible to make another…right?
Yet, how can I sit and read, think, and write without a steaming cup of coffee? It is unthinkable!
I should probably have water.
We are in the midst of one of the largest snowstorms we’ve had in 3 years where I live on the Eastern Shore of Maryland. That doesn’t help with the desire to sit with more coffee, either. It certainly doesn’t inspire me to get any work or tasks done. All I want is a good book to complement that coffee on days like today.
Cuddling up with your family, hot drinks in hand, by the window to watch the snow fall is one of the great joys of the winter season. My wife and I found ourselves giddy like young kids at the prospect of how much snow might fall, if schools and workplaces would be closed, if we would wake up in winter wonderland.1 More, we were excited to play in the snow with our son for the first time. There’s something so special about snow days that brings up that childlike joy and wonder, slowing the oppressive pace of the world with a blanket of snow, inviting us to rest, play, and wonder once more.
It makes me want to set aside work, errands, responsibilities, and just exist in the moment of the storm.
Yet, as 21st century working individuals, we’ve so alienated ourselves from the natural rhythm of things that we think ourselves above it all. And why wouldn’t we? We have electricity, heat and air conditioning, cars, phones, Wi-Fi connection, and so much more. The storms, snow, and other natural elements that surely would’ve stopped our ancestors in their tracks are today mere annoyances, distractions from our hustle-grind mentality. Of course now that we can work from home, uninhibited by nature, people, or even our own biology, there’s nothing stopping us from barreling right on through; ignoring the world around us and the people with us.
In doing so, I think we miss a sacred invitation.
Generations before us could do nothing but bow to the strength and ferocity of such storms. A snow day was not an opportunity to take a day off - it was a demand that you couldn’t say no to. But today we have have tricked ourselves in to thinking that we are somehow above it all; the work can keep going regardless of the circumstances around.
And I believe there is something lost there. We cannot super-cede the created order. We are not gods, even if the technology and comforts we’ve devised allow us to think so.
In the over-work, over-consumption, and harried pace of this cultural moment, we are too anxious and too self-important to allow anything to slow us down. Slow is bad, right? Yet, somehow we simultaneously long for a break from work and yet the moment we find ourselves in a quiet moment with nothing to do, our deepest darkest thoughts come raging up from the abyss, telling us we’re not good enough, aren’t doing enough, and should be ashamed for not producing or working.
And therein lies the sacred invitation that we have lost. See, those thoughts are lies. The serpent is whispering in your ear as he did in Eve’s. You are not defined by how much you know, how much you can produce, how efficient you are, how many hours you work. It is not a sin to periodically refrain from work in order to play, rest, and do things that bring you joy. It’s one of the ten commandments!2 You are not bigger than a storm, cannot order the world around you according to your will - and that’s a good thing. The anxiety, existential dread, and exhaustion we feel when we try should be evidence enough.
Instead, we might heed the invitation of such a snow day as this - to remember that we are not in control but Someone else is. That we are not production machines but rather people made in God’s image; made to create, yes, but also for relationship, joy, love, and beauty. That in the midst of all of our hustle and bustle, there is a world that is full of beauty, awe, and wonder made by our Father who sustains and created it all for us to enjoy. That we are not bigger than the storms and other difficult circumstances of life - but Someone else is.
Of course - get your work done. Don’t shirk your responsibilities. But don’t miss the invitation, either. To childlike joy and wonder. To rest and remember. We are not what we produce, work is not the most important thing, and there are things and people bigger than us. And that is a good thing - because you aren’t meant to carry the world on your shoulders. So get outside and roll around in the snow. Cuddle your spouse and children. Make yet another coffee and grab a book. Heed the sacred invitation of storms to to rest and play, to be reminded of who you are, your place in this world, and you Father who made it all and wants to enjoy it with you.
Matthew 11:25–30 (LEB)
25 At that time Jesus answered and said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and intelligent, and have revealed them to young children. 26 Yes, Father, for to do so was your gracious will. 27 All things have been handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wants to reveal him. 28 Come to me, all of you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke on you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy to carry and my burden is light.”
Hic sunt dracones.
Anybody else still remember when you had to wake up before the sun to watch the local new station in order to find out if your school had been canceled that day?
Sabbath (Exodus 20:8).
So so good. Love this gentle reminder of our humanity - it’s such a new idea that we should live outside of nature’s rhythms.