I have become dangerously tired. I'm realizing this little by little. In the past month, I have had very few days off, and on the days that I have not needed to work, I still feel compelled to do so. In the midst of my exhaustion, there have been moments of rest, but nothing that rejuvenates enough. So I booked a flight to Guatemala the week after Holy Week so I would be forced to take some time off. As some of my initial plans fell through the cracks, I realized that this would be a good time for some solitude and silence with the Lord. A retreat, of sorts, but not one with conferences and self-help books. A time of rooting myself in the story of the Good News again.
As I have been reading a few books to guide me through this journey, I have been amazed at how well they describe my current state. I have been feeling out of control, Knowing that the exhaustion I feel is something that has been accompanying me for a long time, I have simply pushed it aside and kept going by sheer willpower. But that is dangerous. It has brought me to a place where I can't care anymore. In Invitation to Solitude and Silence by Ruth Haley Barton, she describes this state as "dangerously tired." It is a chronic inner fatigue that has accumulated over months for me. I can think back to the last time I felt truly rested, and it was at least three months ago. Christmas vacation should have been a time of rest and recuperation, but because of some work demands, a toe infection, and the desire to see a lot of people, it wasn't a break really. Barton says that this chronic fatigue manifests itself sometimes as feeling "out of control, compelled to constant activity by inner impulses that we may not be aware of. For some reason we can't quite name, we're not able to linger and relax over a cup of coffee. We can't keep from checking voicemail or email 'just one more time' before we go to bed at night...The idea of taking a full day off once a week seems impossible both in theory and practice."
I grew up with the idea of a Sabbath. We didn't do any homework on Sundays, and that day off has been something I have cherished. However, living in Nicaragua it has been trickier. A good portion of my work is networking. Sundays are a day of rest sometimes, but they are also a good opportunity to visit other churches, see people in León, or communicate with friends and family back home. In some ways that is restful, and in some ways it is more of the same activity that fills the six days of the week. Therefore, I have lost the idea of how to rest well.
I went to a retreat for the staff of CRC in North America last week, and we focused on identifying, telling, and listening to our stories. For one exercise, we had to identify with a Bible story. The first one that popped into my head was Elijah in 1 Kings 19. He had just defeated the prophets of Baal, prayed for rain to return after 3 years, and heard from Jezebel that she planned to kill him. On the run, he collapses from exhaustion under a broom tree. An angel feeds him and lets him sleep, and then after he rests, Elijah journeys to Mount Horeb where he encounters God not in the earthquake, the windstorm, or the fire, but in the silence with a still, small whisper. This story spoke to me where I was. I know I am exhausted, and desperate to hear from God in the solitude and silence of his presence. Providentially, this is the same story that the book I'm reading uses as a guide for teaching about how to enter into solitude and silence. I want to be rested, refreshed, free of compulsion to please others and myself, willing to care and feel again...
God knew what he was doing when he arranged this trip for me. I have been balking at it, feeling selfish for going on a vacation. There is too much work to do to take out a week of time. People will judge me, thinking I should have used the week off during Holy Week to rest (I was at a regional CRC retreat and then planning and participating in an IMPACT club camp for my group in Nuevo Horizonte). I've only been working as a partner missionary for three months - what is there to be tired from? But as I notice and acknowledge where I am, I'm learning (struggling, really) to let go of my own self-recrimination. I'm releasing the need for others' approval. I'm remembering the joy and love that flowed from my time in Taizé when I spent time alone with God. And I'm thankful for this opportunity to rest and become rooted in God's story again.At this end of this week, I hope to know in the center of my being who I am in God, and feel passionate about the Good News again.
