The slow turning of a ceiling fan. Thin alabaster window shades sway in the breeze of an idle summer’s day. Beyond its gentle sway, I can see our garden blossoming like never before. And beyond that, a vast sea of sprouting corn that extends for miles in many directions.
In stark contrast to the idyllic view before me, I am nearing week one of a malaise and rather persistent set of infirmities. Something peculiar was in the air last week, and despite my best efforts, it found me. The silence I’m now experiencing is my time in isolation with a fever of 102ºF, a ceaseless cough, and waves of fatigue. Many thoughts cross my mind as I stare longingly out our picture window while nestled within the comfort of my favorite recliner. Feeling somewhat aloof, there seem to be no joyful moments, other than an occasional lick from our affectionate and concerned canine.
Even though this pestilence was imposed upon me, these moments seem like a solemn and humbling opportunity for both reflection and contemplation. Yet being relegated to this lounge chair, I can’t help but feel trapped by circumstance to a life of lethargy. Perhaps this is a needed reprieve and a blessing in disguise. Or perhaps not, because, “there is so much work left to be done!”
And he looked up and said, “I see men like trees, walking.”
Mark 8:24
Yesterday, a powerful thunderstorm swept through town, raining rather large hailstones on our community. It didn’t last for more than a few minutes, but our trees were not blessed by its passing. In its wake, it left large branches and limbs strewn everywhere throughout our yard—and I must resist my growing urge to wobble outside and pick them up. Like a heavy cloak, a veil of weariness has embraced me, and fighting through it makes matters worse, as my fever spikes higher with each attempt to move from my chair. So, on the advice of many loved ones, and with great protest and lament, I will surrender to this strange flu that won’t let me go, for I have inherited the energy level of a snail, and now resign myself to my armchair and an ice-filled glass of lemonade.
But all is not lost. From where I sit, I can see the birds playing among the trees and a bright red cardinal nesting in the small gardenia shrub just outside my window. Mere feet away, he doesn’t see me, but I see him as he hops from branch to branch. On occasion, he chirps for his mate, and the sound fills the room with a sweet melody carried on the wind. I can hear the water of a nearby brook through the open window. I can see one of our neighborly rabbits prancing around in search of a favorable avenue to our raised garden bed of radishes and carrots. “Keep staring little rabbit, I knew you were coming back this year. No food for you!”
Yet, while I can see and hear, I wish I could smell. It’s such a lovely day out there. God’s colorful blossoms are everywhere. Unfortunately, along with my body, my nose is on holiday, and it took my sense of smell with it. So, I’m confined to just the sights and sounds of a very handsome summer day, indeed. And though every morsel tastes like cardboard, and my lemonade tastes like vinegar, I feel at peace, because I am blessed.
Blessed to have a place to commune and rest. Many do not have such a place in their life. Blessed to have an attentive spouse who is providing for my needs. Some lack such a wonderful mate. Blessed to have a home. Many are homeless and wandering. And blessed to have the Lord and His eternal mercies. I need all I can get.
“However, the report went around concerning Him all the more; and great multitudes came together to hear, and to be healed by Him of their infirmities. So He Himself often withdrew into the wilderness and prayed.” Luke 5:15–16
I suspect that Jesus was also burdened by the weight of His responsibilities. The pressing crowds. The Pharisees and Sadducees. His constant shunning of temptation. And His mission of salvation. Even so, He regularly sought that peaceful time alone with the Father; a genuine time of spiritual communion and restoration. Full of wisdom, He didn’t need to be coerced by a virus like I have, because He had an intellect that understood the intricate balance of work versus rest, and managed it well. I should learn from His example. The work can wait. Tomorrow is not going anywhere, so learn to appreciate today.
I believe God can send afflictions to slow us down when we move too fast. Ailments to humble us as we reflect on our mortality. As we age and grow closer to that day, perhaps He sends even more reminders our way.
So, from where I lie comes a growing appreciation for the beauty of His Creation, and the healing power of rest.
“There remains therefore a rest for the people of God. For he who has entered His rest has himself also ceased from his works as God did from His.” Hebrews 4:9–10
Thanks to Jesus and His soon return, all of life’s infirmities are merely temporary inconveniences. I am promised that every day with Him is a day I grow stronger in spirit; and every year I grow more faithful in deeds. So, with the past being a proof of my progress, why worry about the plagues? Heavenly healing is on the way!
“But to you who fear My name the Sun of Righteousness shall arise with healing in His wings; and you shall go out and grow fat like stall-fed calves.” Malachi 4:2
