"No Capes!" and Learning to Rest
“Ain’t it like most people? I’m no different
We love to talk on things we don’t know about.
”
I can still remember my friend Monica’s head thrown back in laughter when I told my book club ladies that, as a child, I had been extremely shy and quiet. “What happened?” She asked with laughter tears in her eyes. I’ve been a part of several wonderful book clubs over the years but this was the first one I discovered at a crucial time in my life; three little children with a fourth on the way, feeling lonely and in desperate need of mental stimulation. We met every week for years. Every week. Sometimes with tea and cookies, sometimes with wine and chocolate, sometimes with infants in car seats. If the babies needed holding there were several moms eager to cuddle. If someone accidentally wore the wrong shoes home, they were forgiven.
It’s been almost twenty years since I was initiated into the group and, while we don’t all live close enough to meet in person, we are still connected. When something big happens, good or bad, The OG’s (as our children have affectionately called us) are the first to know. We’ve been away on several weekends together, we’ve celebrated our kid’s graduations and weddings, and we’ve attended the funerals of each other’s parents.
But for all those years of reading, discussing, laughing, crying, debating, and encouraging, there was not one week where I didn’t hit the steering wheel on the drive home because I had spent more than my fair share of time talking. Sometimes I or someone else would send out a group email afterward apologizing for taking up too much of the talking time. We actually came up with two rules: 1. No apologizing-for-talking-too-much emails. And 2. No hitting the steering wheel on the way home. I adhered to the first rule but still shook my head and hit the steering wheel most weeks because, once again, I had been pretty chatty.
Somewhere along the way between kindergarten and adulthood, I had transformed from extremely shy and quiet to someone who can easily talk to strangers and, often, feels obligated to be a chief contributor in a discussion, regardless of how much knowledge I may have on a topic. The transition happened gradually so when Monica asked “what happened” I really couldn’t answer but only laugh along with my precious OG’s.
While I have learned to be less ashamed of my quickness to speak, I have also come to see that it has roots in other behaviors that I am ready and willing to shed. While being curious and willing to think critically in order to learn and grow as a person has its merits, I have started to realize that much of my desire to take the lion’s share of the talking and my uncomfortableness with quiet moments, is connected to a false belief that I can “save” someone. Teach them. Fix them. Yes, here is the confession in written form, and, instead of feeling shame or embarrassment I actually feel a sense of relief. And freedom. Tyler Staton is faithful to remind us that “sin is not about a God with an annoyingly narrow moral framework.” In a recent sermon he continued to explain that turning from sin is God beckoning us to freedom and healing on the deepest level. Afterall, the option to repent is God’s kindness to us. (Romans 2:4)
Even as I embark on another open diary in the form of a blog post I am in awe of God’s exquisite care for every component of my person. In a moment of desperately trying to think and strategize about how every person I know who is going through really rough stuff could be saved or fixed, the Lord said stop. Stop. Ok, I did not hear an actual voice. What happened was this: I was in my bedroom a couple months ago, madly scheming on how to save the world when a partial bible verse popped into my head: “in quietness and trust will be your strength.” You know. One of those thoughts that plummet into your brain out of nowhere. I knew there was more to the verse so I tracked it down in Isaiah 30:15: “For thus said the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel, ‘In returning (or repentance) and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength.’”
But that wasn’t all the verse had to say. Years ago most of my scripture reading consisted of snippets here and there that gave me all the feels; the verses that I could make all about me. So I was a bit surprised when I saw the line, “but you were unwilling” at the end of this beautifully inspiring verse. What? Who would be unwilling to receive salvation and strength from the Lord? As I pushed into the whole chapter I learned that God had told Israel that He would save them from the threat of Assyria but, instead, they made their own plans to seek aid from Egypt. They wanted to take matters into their own hands. Seeking aid from Egypt, the kingdom that once held them captive seemed like a better option than waiting for the God who had miraculously saved them.
The chapter is leveling the Israelites with the seriousness of their sin. But in a way that is also reminding them that the God they serve was only ever wanting their good. Rest. Quietness. Salvation. Strength. Those were some of the joys He had intended but, “you were unwilling.”
I spend so much time seeking aid elsewhere and thinking that I am the very aid that my friends and family so desperately need. If I’m not there offering solutions and saving them, how could they possibly make it? I read and reread this chapter and felt humbled but, as with true repentance (a turning of directions), the burden was lifted. For further on in chapter 30 we are reminded of God’s character in a breathtaking way: “He will surely be gracious to you at the sound of your cry. As soon as He hears it, He answers you.” (v.19b) The rest of the chapter continues in this vein; restoration, grace, abundance, and profound love.
When I see a friend unsettled and anxious I want to swoop in with my cape and download all the things I think will fix them. In the meantime, I remain knotted up with my own fears and hurts. Not admitting that I may need to pause, be quiet and, perhaps, receive the wisdom a friend may want to offer. Or, even better, sit in silence and just be present. No words. No answers. And in the iconic words of Edna Mode, “No capes!”
Don’t worry, my friends, you won’t be left with awkward silences anytime soon. Nor am I in need of any reassurance to not silence or muzzle myself. I will still be ready to engage in whatever conversation comes my way. But, hopefully, with less of an agenda and more listening. Less answers and more questions. Less presumption and more peace.
