I was about to give up and that's no lie. Cardinal landed outside my window, threw his head back, & sang a song. So beautiful, it made me cry.

My church is doing a series on work right now. Today, the sermon was about rest. It was about Sabbath time, what that should mean, what that should look like, why it is important, and what the Bible has to say about all of that.

I am not always really great at working, but I think I am pretty good at Sabbath-ing, at least when I get around to doing it, I do it pretty well. I say that, because I love doing it. A lot of people say that they don't know how to rest, they can't rest, it doesn't come easily to them. I am an excellent rester, sometimes. I love these moments. I long for this time.

Stillness. Peace. Rest. Ink. Books. Depths. Intimacy. Wonder. Honesty. Those are the words I think of when I think about the word Sabbath, and what it means to observe Sabbath time. I probably am too good at it. I would fill day, upon day, upon day up with coffee shop time, my Bible, my journal, a little Sara Groves in my headphones, and ink spilling over pages. It feels so good to me. I know there is value in this time, because I can feel it in my bones. I can feel it in my heart. I don't think the quality of my relationship with Jesus depends on anything that I do and so, while I am very appreciative of time like this, time where I sit and write and think and pray and read, I don't think I make anything better in this time. That has to be him. If that is happening, it has got to be him. That has to come from someone else.

The more I see that and think about what that means, the more in awe I am of how good he is to me. Awe. That is equally terrifying and freeing. Does this time that I am rambling on about have anything to do with my faith increasing or my maturity increasing, or my unbelief decreasing? Yeah, I'd say so. If those things are happening, I think this time has something to do with it, but it comes from him, not me. It's his. Maturity and faith are not things that I can produce. Awe. Terrifying. Freeing.

How little control I actually have over any of this. I am sure that he can and is doing an infinitely better job than I ever could, but my heart doesn't always remember that; my heart of hearts doesn't always believe that. I read an article once that talked about this idea. I can't remember who wrote it or where I read it. It might have actually been a sermon I listened to once, but the point was this, "We cannot muster faith. We cannot muster intimacy with God. We cannot muster maturity. We must ask for those things, but we cannot make them ourselves. And when he grants them, when he gives us pieces of those things, the glory is his."

The only thing I am sure of is that the word, "muster," was used, and that always stuck with me. In social work we have the I.M.A.G.I.N.E. model for program development (insert APA citation here). The, "M," stands for, "Mustering Support."

Three things about Mustering Support:

1. We always laugh when we get to the M, because, seriously, who came up with this mnemonic device? Who thought that muster was the word that everyone needed to remember. It just sounds so awkward and random.

2. Aside from muster being a funny/random word to land on, once you get passed the weirdness of it, it's actually really great. Muster Support. Get people on your team. Get people excited about you cause. Make it exciting. Let people know why what you are doing is important. With most things in social work and in life, individual people don't get large scale projects accomplished on their own. To be successful, to make a lasting impact, to touch lives, to move towards social justice, you have to have support. You have to have more than yourself. You have to muster.

3. Mustering support when you are trying to implement a new project or program is great. Mustering faith is impossible. I've tried to do both. I can tell you that at least one of them was unsuccessful, and more than that, it was/is exhausting and lonely.

For a long time in my walk with my father, I told myself that if I did the things that I needed to be doing, I would get the things I needed to get in order to keep moving towards him. I never would have thought that was the message I was telling myself, but in a lot of ways, and in a lot of different circumstances, that was (and sometimes still is) how I operated.

I was upset about missing coffee shop alone time or missing morning quiet time, but not for the right reasons. I was upset, because it was something I needed to be doing, and I wasn't. I was upset, because it was pushing me backwards. I can also, regretfully say that I wasn't upset because I missed sweet, sweet talks with dad. I wasn't upset, because I hurt the only one who has never let me down. I wasn't upset, because I was missing out on quality time. I was upset, because I wasn't moving forward. I was frustrated with myself, because I couldn't just do right. That cycle is tough to get out of.

Frustration with myself (not so surprisingly) never pointed me towards growth. Frustration with myself has never pointed me towards maturity. All frustration with myself has ever done is point me towards more frustration with myself.

I am frustrated with myself --> I don't do better --> I am more frustrated with myself (etc.)

This is the only thing that has pointed me towards something like growth:

I can't do better --> Jesus goes after me anyway --> I can't do better --> Jesus goes after me anyway --> I still can't do better --> Jesus goes after me anyway (etc.)

I have a lot to learn about a lot of things. I am so sure that I have a ton to learn about work, especially as I begin to think about life after college, but I am also sure that I have a lot to learn about rest. I have a lot to learn about Sabbath-ing. God, thank you for the times you have given me. Thank you for the faith and maturity you have granted me. I'm excited to see what else you have to show me through rest. I can't wait to learn more from rest. I cannot wait to see that I'm really not as good at it as I think I am.

It actually isn't about me. I actually cannot do better. Jesus goes after me anyway. And when he grants it, the glory is his.