This Sabbath may you find yourself in the middle of wonder…hugging your knees and staring at miles of open lake, pulling the car over to the rim of the road to feast on a stretch of gold washed mountains, wrapped in a blanket on the back porch staring at a river of milky stars and remember…you are small.
You are gloriously, graciously small.
Once a week we stop work to remember that the world will not fly lose into the Universe if we put down our piece for 24 hours.
Today is for slow wonder:
Watch the wooly caterpillar unfurl itself in your hand,
the flames dance on the wood,
wet colors meld and play on heavy paper.
See, taste, touch, smell, listen to the goodness of God incarnating. God’s love for us bursts out in the profoundly small.
Let the joy of smallness wave over you, sliding that heavy weight right off your shoulders. You don’t have to reach up on tippy toes, try to puff your chest up large, try to make yourself BIG, because He already is. And we only need one Almighty God.
It (whatever “it” is for you: your hunger for career advancement, your cracked and fissured marriage, your child’s illness, your struggling infant church) does not depend on your sharp wit, the amount of faith you conjure up in prayer, the mask of your perfect behavior. All Sabbath long, as you feel the weight creep back up your arms, carry the heaviness back where it belongs…into your Abba’s hands.
He’s good at carrying the world.