Lord, my heart is not proud; my eyes are not haughty. I do not get involved with things
too great or too wondrous for me. Instead, I have calmed and quieted my soul…
Psalm 131:1-2 (CSB)
I’m learning to crochet. Is that dorky? I have a feeling what the hipsters do with yarn these days is knitting. But I’ve heard that takes two needles, which is completely intimidating. So for now, it’s crochet. I took a class with my daughters at a local craft store, and after three hours we learned one stitch — if that’s even what you call it. We make rows in a line, turn, and make another line. It’s too narrow for a blanket, too wide for a scarf, and it doesn’t matter anyway because I don’t know how to read a pattern or do anything, really. I want it to be relaxing.
I like the idea of staying a beginner. I like moving my hands in a predictable rhythm to make nothing in particular except maybe some space for my soul to breathe. I like the absence of pressure, the complete lack of temptation to show off or get arrogant. This week, as I imperfectly practice this new craft, I’m discovering the spiritual discipline hidden beneath the uneven rows of yarn. Sometimes I need to engage in an activity for the single purpose of disengaging from productivity.
There’s an invisible world that lives inside our bodies, the inner world of the soul. And this inner world needs our attention, but it doesn’t respond to programs, agendas, or hustle. The soul responds to space, silence, and Jesus.
I’m discovering Christ in ordinary moments . . . both the ones where I feel capable and the ones where I am out of my element. I’m discovering Him, in the visible world I can see and the invisible one that lives within me. And sometimes I need to actively do things I’m not good at in order to remember how desperately I need Him. Sometimes I need to work quietly with my hands in order to settle my soul.
This message was written by Emily P. Freeman and appears in A Moment to Breathe, a 365-day devotional from the (in)courage community.Leave a Comment