So Augustine calls the heart.
“Let my soul take refuge from the crowding turmoil of worldly thoughts beneath the shadow of your wings,” he prays, “let my heart, this sea of restless waves, find peace in you, O God.”
Some of you have probably been wondering how I managed to give up so early on my burgeoning weblog and the answer is, not that I’ve given up, but that I haven’t anything to say. And that’s not because nothing is happening, but because something always is. So much something I never have a moment to think, or process, or live anything.
Crowding turmoil. There’s nothing, I think, wrong with a busy life. Sometimes I miss the point and equate simplicity with godliness and forget that Jesus was one of the busiest guys I know, at times. It’s what you do with, amidst, and besides the business that matters. The taking of refuge. The finding of peace.
I, like Augustine perhaps, tend to spend myself like my time. My mind much resembles my schedule in clutter and content–so that life becomes a fog which covers my heart and spirit till I can see nothing of God, though he be ever so present. My pursuit becomes, even, after time: which cannot save or be saved.
And so I hate that business of life, I guess, because it keeps me from the things I love.
I began with a prayer and I’ll end with a prayer, because what is there to do, after days which wish to drag you under this sea of restless waves, but to end with a prayer?
This, from Buechner, which I caught a moment to read today and which in turn caught me:
“LORD, catch us off guard today. Surprise us with some moment of beauty or pain so that for at least a moment we may be startled into seeing that you are with us here in all your splendor, always and everywhere, barely hidden, beneath, beyond, within this life we breathe.”