Be still and know

I am in the midst of my annual 21-day fast, with which I greet each new year.  This is a time to set apart the year, mark these days as holy unto the Lord.  Reflect on what He wants this year.

The first day or so is always a struggle—
I’m coming down from my self-inflicted sugar high,
coming out of the busyness of the holiday season,
and coming into the contemplative seeking that marks these days of fasting.

I don’t abstain from all foods—just the ones I want most—but I do limit my portion size so that I am reminded of my dependence on sustenance throughout the day. 

I limit my attentiveness to activities that easily distract.

I am intentional with my thoughts and prayers by listing for myself the areas I believe are most in need of intercession.  I ask the Lord for Scripture that sets the tone of each fast, and I meditate on it for the duration. 

I settle into a new rhythm.

At this point, I fear that my dear Christian reader is aghast regarding this post as I am speaking openly about that most taboo and controversial topic of…fasting.  (Gasp!)  Fear not.  I am neither holier-than-thou nor an unholy lightning rod.

Jesus speaks as if we’re all fasting regularly (cf. Matthew 6:17) and exhorts us not to take pride in our obedience.  Trust me, I’d actually prefer to hide out in my prayer closet right now. 

Since I have three-and-a-half readers, it’s rather like I am in my prayer closet, and perhaps this is why I’m not worried about appearances.

Bottom line:  I’m just being real…and using this setting as a vehicle for what I really want to share. 



What I really want to share

The verse for this fast is Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God.”  I asked the Lord to reveal a verse for these 21 days, and after pondering several meaningful ones for a couple of days early on, He placed this one on my heart.

Here’s why this verse surprised me:  It’s the beginning of a new year. 
A time to reset habits,
     strike out for distant dreams,
          blaze a trail for generations to follow.

Move.  Become.  Do.  Be.

Be.  Still?

Yes.  Be.  Still.  And.  Know.

Lord, I don’t understand.  I’m really good at sitting still and doing nothing.  Held back by complacency, fear, lack of what-I-think-is-clear direction.  Is that what You mean?

I just bought this book to help me reach my goals—a short chapter a day, each day, for 21 days—and I believe You are okay with my doing that.  You’ve been dropping me a lot of hints lately that this is the year to set a new course and actually walk down the road. 

For too long I’ve let the “urgent” rule my life without setting a plan for accomplishing the meaningful. 

This is my year to take a leap,
take the plunge, 
take off.

What is this “be still” stuff?  How do I reconcile the two?


A study of Psalm 46’s original Hebrew doesn’t point to sitting idly by while prettily daydreaming of God’s presence.  Instead, the Hebrew word that we have come to know as “be still” is better translated “let go” or “surrender.” 

In the context of the entire Psalm, which speaks of God’s mighty power and sovereignty over His creation, His people are called to remember who God is and what He’s done, to give Him the glory that only He is due, and then to look to Him as our only Refuge and Hope.*

So, let the surrendering begin, continue.  I believe it’s okay for me to run alongside God on any adventure He has planned for me this year, but the preparation for the expedition must be
     a letting go of my own tightly held plans,
          a releasing of my will,
     an acknowledgment that my knees need to bend now
          and not just on the day when all will bow a knee to Him.

It’s more than that, though.  It goes a step further.  It is trust.  Trust that He has everything in view and His plan is perfect and perfectly taking shape though I don’t understand one bit of it most of the time. 

It means
     letting Him do the heavy lifting
          and following His lead for my involvement in the process.

It takes 21 days to form a new habit, or so the studies say.  Perhaps that is why I am always a bit bereft at the end of my fasts—I’ve become accustomed to the extra time for prayer and Bible study, to the feeling of dependence on the Lord, to the greater appreciation I have for my comfortable lifestyle.  (I am hungry by choice, after all, and not by necessity.)

It’s hard to return to life as normal
     once one has learned that pizza and a movie
          are a poor substitute for soup and Jesus. 

Let the letting go carry on and forward. 

Be still.  Surrender. 
And know.  Acknowledge. 
That I Am God.  Yes, yes You are.


*I lament my lack of access to truly good commentaries, but passable source material was taken from here and here.