Things fall apart more than they ever seem to fall together.

I’m learning that the way I respond to things falling apart says much more about me than the way I respond to things falling together.

Our bookstore just opened April 9th. It’s very exciting. We are in our early twenties and own our own business. It’s not a family thing that has been passed down, we own it, we’ve modeled it, and we are making Books & Banter into it’s own entity even outside of ourselves.

But what seems to evoke the most feeling out of me anymore is the old familiar comfort of disaster and heartache. The long echo of self-injury begging me to bend, the comfort of crumbling under the weight of the daily grind, and the warm embrace of defeat around my shoulders have been more present than absent these days.

All I ever seem to see is what isn’t there; friends that have moved on, opportunities that ran dry, the lists of things that I have hitherto left undone.

I am like a spray can in the Oklahoma wind. Traces of paint adhere to the surface, but the bulk blows away.

This is my response to things coming together: Dwelling on what is still left to do.

And yet the mournful wasting of time spent stewing over what has fallen apart leaves an even more unattainable response: Dwelling on what could have been done.

How do we really move forward?

How do we take our mistakes and learn to apply what we’ve learned?

How do we make new friends without part of ourselves waiting for everything to go wrong again?

How do we rejoice in the accomplishments of the day and plan for tomorrow without only seeing what needs to be done?

How do we truly rest?

I wish I could tell you that I am a shining example. But, I can’t really rest. Unless I’m asleep, my hyper vigilance is always knocking, keeping my weary feet moving and my restless hands busy.

I can only tell you that GOD has set rest before us not as just a gift, but as a commandment. The Old Testament is filled with mandatory times of resting and feasting (that’s right, GOD commanded His people to have fun).

Spiritual rest is a discipline and like any other discipline it must be practiced. Taking a rest day does not only give you pause physically, but you must set aside The Sabbath as a sacrifice.

My responses to things falling apart and falling together are largely based out of my need to control.

When you take a rest day, you relinquish control. You say to GOD with your actions, “There is much to be done. But you, GOD, can do all things without me.”

A Sabbath is a sacrifice of time to rush around trying to make things go your way. When you take a day without lists, goals, and chores, you can learn to really rest. The Sabbath happens in your mind more than anywhere and it can seem impossible to stop the ramblings of your brain.

So, take a day off. Not because you want to, but because you need to.

Because GOD said so.



abuse, Bible, Blessings, Boundaries, Christ, Christian, Christianity, comfort, depression, Faith, God, Grace, healing, Life, PTSD, rest, Sabbath, Trauma