Nutmeg

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted. To all my degenerates out there: You’re the best.

I’m exhausted. I’ve spent the past six weeks preaching, sometimes on both Sunday morning and evening. I’ve spent the past 6 days writing an essay worth 1/3 of my grade that determines whether or not I continue my research in the Ph.D. program in the fall. I’ve managed to avoid the many offers for coffee from parishioners in the past weeks, mostly citing my busy schedule as the culprit. The Mission society wants my participation, I have a presentation to give at the end of the week, another sermon due for Holy Week, and I my mind feels as empty as my soul.

Today, I had coffee with a friend tasked with establishing a church plant among college students in Edinburgh. After an hour of contemplating the dimensions of secular society and its invasion of the church, we began to talk about things that are meaningful to people. Ironically, I found myself babbling about rhythm in life—rhythm of which I seem to know nothing about as of late.

Life is about rhythm. Our routines reflect the things we love, things to which we give our time and energy. As many people have said: You make time for the things you love. And yet, no one seems to have any time these days.

The Scriptures remind us that God creates rhythms in creation and life. As soon as the sun has set, God shouts—Do it again! And the morning dawns. So too, our lives are about rhythm. We eat—we sleep—we do things in between: All because God sets rhythms for our lives. This is what the Sabbath is all about: Rest—Finding rhythm amidst the chaos; Finding the unforced rhythms of grace that dictate our lives. Perhaps I should make more time for these rhythms of grace. After all, they’re God’s gift to us. It’s a wonder why so many of us fail to live by them.

This is surely nutmeg.