Lynn H. Blackburn

He is more faithful than I am distracted. 

Jim Thompson, one of our teaching pastors, said this yesterday during the Sunday sermon, and it has been on repeat in my brain ever since. 

There’s so much hope here. So much freedom. And wow, do I need that.

Let me explain:

A few years ago, my sister and I took our mom to the pinball museum in Asheville, NC. A flat rate gets you in the door and unlimited play time on a slew of pinball machines – old and new – as well as some classic video games like Pac-Man and Donkey Kong and Tetris. 

We had a blast. But I have to tell you that as much fun as it was, after about an hour, my introverted, HSP self was on the struggle bus. The lights, the sounds, the constant tapping as players hit buttons and pinballs raced around the machine . . . my brain was overloaded! At one point I had to go sit outside to give myself a break. 🙂 

I don’t know about y’all, but I feel like the past year has been like living in an emotional and mental pinball museum. I’m supposed to be loving my spouse, educating my children, caring for my friends and family, writing books, exercising, eating right, and the list goes on. But my brain hurts from the chaos and the noise of a world that I don’t recognize anymore. 

When I sit down to write, when I try to focus on my usual day-to-day activities, when I read my Bible or pray, I struggle in ways I never used to. I know I’m not alone. Almost every writer I’ve spoken to is struggling to find words. Most moms are exhausted from whatever school situation they’ve found themselves in this year, along with all their other responsibilities. And many followers of Jesus know He’s there, but can’t seem to hear His voice in the tumult swirling around us.

My knee-jerk reaction to this is to try harder. Strive more. Figure out a solution. I know better, so I should do better. 

But the better option would be to snuggle in and find rest in the only place it can be found. To lean into the Faithful One. To take my wandering, distracted, bruised heart to the One who loves me so much He died for me, and who promised me that He will never, ever let me go. 

My ego says, “Pull yourself together. It’s been a year. Get a grip, already.”

My Jesus says, “Come to me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” 

Yesterday, when Jim said those words (along with a bunch of other great ones that you can hear here), I heard my Savior whispering to me. There was no “Get a grip” or “Seriously, how many times do we have to cover this before you get it” or “I’m losing patience.” No. None of that. No condemnation.

It went something like this. “That line? That was for you, sweetheart. I know where you are. I know where you’re struggling. I know why. I see you. I’ve got you. I love you.”

It’s Monday morning. The distractions haven’t gone away. In fact, they’re pretty much off the charts. So far I’ve dealt with everything from eggs cracked on the floor to trinomial algebraic expressions (for the record: I prefer the algebra to the eggs) all while sneezing and coughing due to pollen overload, managing some insurance drama, scheduling kids’ activities this week, and meal planning for a week that includes 4 baseball games. 

Y’all, it isn’t even noon! 

Thankfully, He is more faithful than I am distracted. 

So I’m resting in that today. I hope you’ll do the same.

Grace and peace,