It was one of those exceedingly frustrating moments. I’d set aside a day to walk from Fisherman’s wharf in San Francisco Bay to the Golden Gate Bridge. I wanted to capture the iconic sights that had never been more to me than notations in a geography book. I wanted to celebrate being there amongst them, but I also wanted to wander down the back lanes and around corners that don't feature on the tourist maps.
I loved the vibe of Fisherman’s Wharf, the solemnity of Alcatraz and the elegance of stately Victorian homes along the way. My camera was throbbing with images by the time I finally caught sight of the great golden bridge in the distance. I got the long shot, the wide shot and then I clambered under the bridge and lined up a stunning shot that was to be the shot of the day. And my battery died. And I didn’t have a spare.
To say I felt frustrated would be an understatement. I caught a bus back the next day. It was a brilliant sunny day and I had a freshly charged battery and a spare. About 10 minutes before the bus arrived at the bridge, a fog descended, as it is prone to do in San Fran, and as I alighted the bus, the bridge was shrouded in a cloak of white.
I loved the vibe of Fisherman’s Wharf, the solemnity of Alcatraz and the elegance of stately Victorian homes along the way. My camera was throbbing with images by the time I finally caught sight of the great golden bridge in the distance. I got the long shot, the wide shot and then I clambered under the bridge and lined up a stunning shot that was to be the shot of the day. And my battery died. And I didn’t have a spare.
To say I felt frustrated would be an understatement. I caught a bus back the next day. It was a brilliant sunny day and I had a freshly charged battery and a spare. About 10 minutes before the bus arrived at the bridge, a fog descended, as it is prone to do in San Fran, and as I alighted the bus, the bridge was shrouded in a cloak of white.
We live in a charged up generation. We charge our mobile phones, iPads, laptops, cameras, landlines and rechargeable batteries. Without recharging they become useless.
I must confess for a large part of my life that was me. Spent and in need of recharging but too busy to stop. There were children to raise, a business to run, parents to help and ministries to be involved in. Recharging was something I didn’t have time to contemplate or did I fear not being busy? Did busyness have a purpose in my life? Did it help me feel valued and useful? Was it my badge of honour?
What I was doing was good and valuable but I came to realise that unconscious self-fulfillment was the issue that kept me constantly busy, always available and frequently exhausted.
I must confess for a large part of my life that was me. Spent and in need of recharging but too busy to stop. There were children to raise, a business to run, parents to help and ministries to be involved in. Recharging was something I didn’t have time to contemplate or did I fear not being busy? Did busyness have a purpose in my life? Did it help me feel valued and useful? Was it my badge of honour?
What I was doing was good and valuable but I came to realise that unconscious self-fulfillment was the issue that kept me constantly busy, always available and frequently exhausted.
It was during a two year Christian Counselling course that I was given the opportunity to come face to face with my busyness and see it for what it was, self-serving rather than other-centred. What a painful, confronting and humbling experience that was. I’d love to be able to say that having become aware, everything changed. Sadly not. It merely became the first step on a very long road.
One of the hardest parts of travelling that road was learning to stop and be still. When the noise, the activity and involvement ceased, the silence was deafening. It was excruciating.
One of the hardest parts of travelling that road was learning to stop and be still. When the noise, the activity and involvement ceased, the silence was deafening. It was excruciating.
Two verses of scripture become my lifeline … “Be still and know that I am God” … “be still and know”. I would come to know God in the silence in a way I never could in the constant busyness. It reminded me of life. There are some friends whose company you enjoy and you chat and have fun together and then there are the one or two with whom you feel truly known and they do too … you can sit together in silence and its good, very good. It's the knowing that makes the difference.
Then there’s the word’s from Isaiah “In quietness and trust will be your strength”. Now I guard my times of stillness and silence jealously. They add untold richness to my life and prepare me to give myself in ways I never could have done before. They’ve become my grounding space … my quiet centre.
The word ‘still’ comes from the Hebrew word meaning to ‘let go’ or ‘release’. Let go of my agenda, my control and the pressures of my life. Release them. Its in those moments God has my attention and I can hear him whisper, “Glen, will you do this for me?”
Then there’s the word’s from Isaiah “In quietness and trust will be your strength”. Now I guard my times of stillness and silence jealously. They add untold richness to my life and prepare me to give myself in ways I never could have done before. They’ve become my grounding space … my quiet centre.
The word ‘still’ comes from the Hebrew word meaning to ‘let go’ or ‘release’. Let go of my agenda, my control and the pressures of my life. Release them. Its in those moments God has my attention and I can hear him whisper, “Glen, will you do this for me?”
Come sit with me in the stillness and hear the sounds of silence.
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