Be Still: How the Space Between Invites us to a New Way of Living
By Jaime Boerema:
There’s a reason so many young women have been obsessed with Billie Elish’s “What Was I Made For?” since it release earlier this summer. I won’t lie to you, it’s currently on my Spotify-generated “On Repeat” playlist. The song deals with identity in a way that feels raw and poignant and somewhat haunting, even as it offers no real depth in its answer. It’s safe to say that many of us sometimes feel disheartened by the mundane cares of everyday life, and it’s all too easy to put our identities in our emotions or our circumstances. It’s tempting to look at circumstances and feelings as indicators of what we are made for. In a world that is so concerned with knowing ourselves and identifying our purpose, I’d like to make a case for an often overlooked but beautifully redemptive concept: stillness. Stillness can transcend our clutching, grasping attempts to prove that we know ourselves, and instead give us an opportunity to heed the call of the Lord in Psalm 46:10 where it says: “Be still and know that I am God.”
Be still. Wait it out. Stay.
These kinds of thoughts have never been comfortable for me. I love to be in motion, and to feel that my days are laced with “purpose.” I’ve always been someone who often feels (admittedly incorrectly) that what I do and how I’m perceived are directly correlated to who I am and how much I am worth. During high school and college, I was busy. In high school it meant being both a musician and a Varsity athlete while also taking college classes. In college, it meant a variety of things. From handling three jobs on campus, to a busy social calendar, there were days I was undisciplined and busy enough that I didn’t sit down and seriously engage with homework until late at night—often to the detriment of my health. It was in college that I also began to realize how much emotional stock I put into caring for others, both out of genuine love but also out of a selfish need to feel like I was doing enough and therefore of value.
In every season, I find it all too easy to find my identity in something specific, whether it’s my performance, or how I’m perceived, or what I’ve accomplished. I think I might be a little stubborn, too. The Lord will impress the need to be still over and over and over again, and yet I struggle to respond in obedience to this seemingly simple call. Surely it shouldn’t feel like a Herculean task to breathe a full breath and have a moment of quiet. It turns out I can do everything else but that. And even when I take time to be alone, my own thoughts are often too loud. I am so bad at standing still, and when I do stand still, historically, it’s often been in my room late at night, processing, trying to think of all the various factors in my life that I might need to be aware of. My standing still is often an outward stillness and an inward circus. “Be still and know that I am God.” Notice that this verse doesn’t say “Be still and try to mentally maneuver your entire life plan into action.” In the stillness we are called to know the character of God more deeply. And as we learn to know the character of God, we can learn how to release the tight grip we have on our lives and our perceptions of ourselves. If we know that He is God, we don’t need to spend so much time trying to brand (and market) ourselves. Yet, as easy as this is to say, I understand it’s harder than it looks.
We often hear “be still” and immediately feel defensive. Who would want to be still when there’s a whole world of things to do? The problem is, sometimes the doing sometimes keeps us from living. And more than that, being still means you have to be ok with just being. Being human, being broken, being as you are and not as you’d like to imagine yourself. Being still can be terrifying because it makes us confront the gaping holes in our hearts. It can show us where our self-image has worn thin, and it often makes us realize when we have put our identity in all the wrong things. Eventually, being still can become something we dread because it feels impossible in our frenzied culture. Fortunately, there is grace because sometimes, the moments of stillness are agents of breakthrough. In this season, the Lord is teaching me how to be still, and there is a kind of unfurling that is happening in my soul.
I’m a firm believer that the Lord often teaches us distinct lessons through different seasons. Right now, I am in a season of needing to be still. There is much to anticipate and much to long for. There are joys on the horizon and sorrows close in the rearview. I have had to ask a lot of questions. What does it mean to exist in the space between? How can I glory in my Redeemer in this sliver of time and cherish it, not wastefully or begrudgingly, but with open hands and a willing heart? What if this time when everything around me is changing is a time to allow Him to steady me and teach me about more of His heart?
Sometimes we squirm like little toddlers, trying to evade the gentle but firm grip of a loving Father. The problem is we feel like He’s constraining us, when really, He’s growing us in tender and profound ways. If I must always be constantly running from thing to thing and I can’t sit alone with unvarnished thoughts or unfinished desires, then really, what is all the striving worth? If I must always have resolution and I cannot sit with unexplained longings or unfulfilled hopes, but must instead force them into being, then I have yet to learn that fullness of joy is not in the results of my circumstances but in the presence of my God (Psalm 16:11). My identity cannot be in my success at work, the flourishing of my relationship, the expansion of my friendships, my transformation in the gym, or my satisfaction in my hobbies. While it may seem obvious, if those are the things that generate my identity, then the failure or lack of fulfillment in these areas can have the power to crush me. We all have times when one or more areas of our lives are in a state of unhealthiness or are simply disappointing. If we put our identity into what we do, then when we fail, or our connections with others are less than ideal, or we make mistakes professionally or personally, we find ourselves unmoored and disheartened. Learning to stand still and just be, to inhale fully and rest in the knowledge that our Abba is God is therefore not only important, it’s vital.
What does this look like practically? And does being still mean we need to pretend we don’t have unique personalities and desires? In answer to the first questions, admittedly, it does depend on the season. A sophomore in college will have a different experience being still than a thirty-five-year-old mother. As an unmarried woman who is twenty five and works full-time, I have a different perspective than I did five years ago, or than I will in ten years. And yet, being still can always mean taking intentional time to just be with the Lord, regardless of your station in life. In this season, I have found long walks, times of prayer and reflection, and slowing down my busy social calendar to all be sweet ways of learning to cultivate greater stillness. In answer to the second question, I want to encourage you: being still and allowing the Lord to shape you does not mean that you feel the need to obliterate your personality or engage in self-deprecation. It simply means that you are opening your hands and allowing the Lord to shape you as He sees fit, and to teach you more about yourself in the process.
Ultimately, in this season of standing still, the Lord is reminding me that my identity is not in what I do or how I perform, it is in Who I belong to. And I belong to Jesus. At the end of the day, do any of us really, truly know ourselves? I think the best we can do is “be still and know that He is God.” And knowing that He is God means also knowing that we are not. It’s hard to know who we really are when we haven’t yet established these foundational truths. And what if the call to be still is not simply a seasonal one, but a life-long commitment to seeking first His kingdom and choosing Him above every earthly desire? What if in a season of greater stillness, the Lord is preparing our hearts not just for the next season, but preparing our hearts for a new way of life? Instead of thinking God is using the stillness to either punish you for some way you’ve failed, or to prepare you for some momentous season ahead, what if He is preparing you for a new way of living? What if He is ushering in stillness as a means to a richer understanding of the abundant life He is so eager to lavish upon you? The Lord is faithful and sovereign and can work in your heart regardless of if you heed the call to be still or not. Yet He invites us to be still as a way to participate in His good work. It is not often easy, but it can be made beautiful. Friends, as you learn to stand still, I wish you a greater and greater measure of joy in every season, and every space in between.
