Calm.
What does that look, sound, feel, taste, like? Is it inside or outside?
Is it the absence of busyness? The emptiness of my to-do list? Is it the quiet, inner confidence of circumstance? Is it the trust in forces invisibly at work or a resigned "giving in" because of an inability to control those same forces? is it the result of finding the perfect career? The perfect marriage? The perfect family? Do those invoke a calm?
I have always struggled with calm, because I desperately want it. But it can be so elusive and fragile.
There are people who just seem to exude calm. Uber coach Tom Osborne (Nebraska Cornhusker football coach of 70's, 80's and 90's) was a rock. I have memories of Osborne, chewing gum, intently watching the game with this super human calmness that defied explanation. Not smiling, but not scowling like a Paterno or screaming and carrying on like any score of lousy coaches today. Just calm. Whether winning or losing (which, by the way, he did a whole lot more winning.) he was calm.
Geez, I wanna be like that.
There have been times in my life where calm should have prevailed - those times of good circumstances when the town crier could have yelled, "It's 10 o'clock and all is well!" but inside and outside, all was not well. All was not calm. All was not bright.
There have been other times when there was a calm in the midst of struggle - kinda like Jesus being able to sleep soundly in the boat when chaos is all around him. Never have those times been because all my circumstances are under control. Never have those times been because my to-do list were empty. Never have these moments been because sin is gone from my life. But there was a calm. Frankly, these times seem a bit less common in my life.
Then there is the faith question.
Our Christian faith names calm in different terms: peace, contentment, blessed assurance. I love those terms. I love to read scripture and listen to Jesus' commanding the lake to be still. I love reading Paul and his exhortation of contentment in all circumstances. I love reading the Psalms and David's wrestling with crisis, crying out to God to save him, yet at the end of the day his assurance in God's power and control is secure.
Certainly, there are things that I have peace with, have contentment in and am blessedly assured about. So if I am at peace, have contentment and am blessedly assured, then there should always be calm, right?
I also have a "career" dilemma. I'm the pastor. There's the expectation of calm - the reflective indicator of that inner contentment and peace. I'm trying my hardest. And I can already hear some of you say, "Stop trying and let God!". "Just trust in Him." Yes, I know. I've preached it. Some will say then, "practice what you preach".
Maybe I'm just a little too high strung. Could be that.
But -
Calm comes unexpectedly to me. It comes at times I don't expect it. This morning I've been able to write this during the early morning hours while tracing the mountain shadows as they move across the lake and peaks. And a great calm has prevailed.
It can come while walking the dog. It can come in the middle of a sermon. It can come while cleaning the garage. A long drive. A cup of coffee. Even in the middle of a difficult, trying situation, whether a tough conversation or the slowest moving line at Walmart.
Weird timing.
But it can also leave just as quickly. A brief encounter with someone with an agenda. A disturbing news story. A letter to the editor. An email. A memory. A disconnect between my expectations and my reality. The dog barfs on the floor. The kids yell (or more likely, I yell at the kids...).
Calm can easily be shattered for me. I wish I was stronger in the midst of all of it.
How about you?
Is "calm" simply an outside appearance? Or is "calm" the reflective of inner peace and contentment? Are some people just calm by nature but hiding inner conflict? Are "uncalm" people, those high-strung, nervous ones among us, struggling with inner "issues" or might they be peaceful inside?
Jesus appeared calm before the Sanhedrin and before Pilate, but you certainly couldn't call his demeanor calm when he prayed earlier in the Garden.
Elijah calmly prayed to the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, to rain down fire onto the water soaked alter. But afterwards he ran away, afraid for his life, his calm broken by a toothless threat from the embarrassed Jezebel and by his own inner self-doubts.
Peter is the poster child for uncalm, yet was a rock - the rock on which Jesus said he would build his church. Peter later in life wrote to the believers telling them to think clearly and exercise self-control. Peter? Clear thinking? Self-control? Seriously?
So, calm; an outer expression or inner quiet pond?
I'm going back to tracing the mountain shadows.