rest or rant

It’s not spelled correctly in any of the local languages, as far as I am aware. But there the sign hung on a remote mountain path in the Andes, inviting foot travelers to dine in the yard of this humble home, under a canopy of banana leaves. I saw another invitation in the letters. Like a clearly sketched Y at the start of each day. I immediately saw not one path, but two before me, and how all of life could fall into one or the other.

There is so much, and so many people, to criticize. Faults mask the world over. And we could wake up each morning and join the entourage of complaints and quibbles, and feed the flowing diatribe in the media, in the conversations among us.

It’s an easy way to pass the time.

The other option?  rest. In the one Truth, the father of all truths.
This rest does not mean being idle. During my busiest, most-pressured moments, that is the only place I want to be. In that rest. So that it can carry me through.

In that space, a channel opens. And it carries joy and thankfulness into the heart.  We can find all the things to rant about, but we can’t find the joy, not on our own. It comes through that space of abiding, of rest.

Sometimes I forget that I don’t have to fervently pray to find this, to understand Scripture, to serve and give more, to fix all of my theological misgivings. I could draw up a long list, another ranting of how I don’t add up. Without abiding rest, all of these become striving.

It just takes a moment to find that door inside of each of us. To notice how the light is reflected in a room, how a person moves and smiles, how a misspelled sign hangs aslant over a dirt path. These things, even these, are a design.

We can rest in that space. And there is our joy.

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