be still

i wish i could have videoed the church service i just attended.  it was great.  the music was a combination of hymns and traditional african music and while both were moving and beautiful- one was literally moving. man i was jealous that i'm not african- that i haven't been shaped by that music.  the choir was singing, clapping, shaking, dancing- sometimes you'd even hear a high pitched shrill or yip.  i mean that is praise music.  you can't help but smile and try to keep up- but honestly- coming from the hymn tradition- it's hard to let loose in church- especially when you don't speak or read luganda.  but it wasn't hard for zoe.  that girl raised her hands up - sang her heart out- and danced in circles.  i love that freedom in her.

this was the first service of the semester and the theme for the semester was announced today.  the theme is 'be still and know that i am God'.  and it was so good to be reminded.  of our need to be still.  our need to know.  that we can trust the freedom in this.  but it was also good to be reminded that 'being still' is an action- it requires something of us. it requires surrender- which might be one of the hardest things to do- at least for me- the type A, finisher. 

being still is about letting go. and that is the first step.  it's before the knowing.

and there is so much to let go of- so much to be released.  so much that i hold tightly to.  so many things i try to bend without breaking.

yet it often seems ironic and impossible.  how do you let go, how do you release it, how do you rest in it, if you don't yet know?  for me the letting go usually happens when i'm at the end of my rope.   when i've exhausted all other possibilities, when all my plans to control the situation have failed.  really, when i have no other options, or nothing to loose. then i'm willing to let go. then i'm willing to surrender.  

but then comes the peace.  and the freedom- from my anxiety about whatever is haunting me- whatever i'm trying desperately to get my grubby hands on and control- from my fear about what is not happening, or what is happening- or usually, what might happen.  

if only i could remember and save myself the landing at the end of my rope.  perhaps it would be easier.  life would be more peaceful.  life would be lighter.

somehow it seems to relate to the african music today.  the smiles and the movement and the joy.  there was lightness there.  and me, hymn-bound and trying- wanting my lead feet to jump and my voice to yip.  wanting to shed something and begin again.  wanting to let go- to release.  there again, in the stillness, the dancing.