As I type this, my toddler is resting against his favorite new naptime accessory, a stuffed horse that is serving as a pillow. Before he nodded off to sleep, he exclaimed “I’ve got pockets!” and shoved his little hands into them, and promptly began snoring softly.
A few years ago, I had the proper perspective on these moments, and slowly but surely it’s returning to me.
I’ve not liked being quiet lately, because I’ve erroneously thought that it is my job to provide for my family, and when I am quiet and alone, I’m terrified by my own inner monologue:
What are you doing resting? Don’t you know that there are more things you could be doing right now? Why haven’t you learned a new marketable skill today? What if someone else does, and passes you up? You need to be hustling!
Me, on repeat
Here’s the truth: chasing vocational peace is like running to the candy aisle at the store to feel full.
Candy is not supposed to do that. My job is also not supposed to do that.
Heck, my family is not supposed to bring me peace. Placing that weight on my job or my kids or my wife will crush them.
For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked.
2 Corinthians 5: 1-3
The heavenly dwelling I long for is mine already, in Christ. The peace that I hope that “one more thing” I learn or do vocationally will bring me is already mine, in Christ.
I once had a pastor tell me that the whole of the Christian life is a process of realizing “I remember forgetting that before.” This is one of the things I had forgotten: Life and ultimate peace is found by discovering that Jesus is in control. He doesn’t expect me to rescue myself.
If you’ll excuse me, I am going to go stuff my hands in my newly-discovered pockets, and rest.