Sometimes the best thing you can do for an overactive psyche is run away to an island for awhile. I am happy to say that I get to do just that, and soon. Mental space and cool fresh air and lakeside views and ME go very well together. I’ve already started to do a giddy little jig in my head at the mere idea that this weekend, I might actually rest.
You have impeccable timing.
The temptation in running away, of course, is to actually run away….to leave this mass of ideas behind me and truly escape to the island this weekend. But then my first view on Monday’s return would be an oversized bulky crate sitting obnoxiously on the shoreline. “Welcome back” it would say condescendingly. But I would rather return to the mainland with my troubles left on an island, instead of the other way around. So, I’ve decided to cart the whole lot onto the ferry with me. When I set up camp, I’ll make room on my bunk for me, my sleeping bag, and a box full of stubborn questions for the Lord.
What I expect to find, though, is not that He answers every one of them. Rather, I expect that when I get onto that island and I breathe beside the trees and I go for walks with Jesus, He is probably going to ask me to for the whole box. And then He is probably going to put that box on the forest floor, empty out the contents, and make me walk away without the stubborn bits. I expect that He’ll put most of the questions in His pants pocket for later, though He might grab one or two and ask me if we can “just address these, for now”. And (if you give a mouse a cookie)…he’s probably going to ask me to stop waiting for island getaways to go for walks with Him. This is just a guess though; I don’t want to put Jesus in a box.