“So he said, “I have been very zealous for the Lord God of hosts; for the children of Israel have forsaken Your covenant, torn down Your altars, and killed Your prophets with the sword. I alone am left; and they seek to take my life.” 

Then He said, “Go out, and stand on the mountain before the Lord.” And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice. 

So it was, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood in the entrance of the cave. Suddenly a voice came to him, and said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” 

(1 Kings 19:10-13)

I have always loved this story. Elijah was a prophet to the Lord who was unpopular and persecuted, and now at the end of hope. He calls out to the Lord in desperation: I alone am left. And then the Lord answers him, but not in the great wind, or the earthquake, or the fire, but in a “still small voice.”  So many things in this passage feel relatable: feeling that our beliefs are everywhere rejected and attacked, feeling alone, feeling despair, looking for or expecting the Lord to answer our prayers in obvious and loud ways. And then how gently the Lord does speak to us. 

But we can only hear the Lord after the other chaos dies down. The Lord isn’t in the loud and all consuming events that demand our attention. The Lord is in the quiet and the stillness. Of course we can only really hear the Lord in our own lives when we leave a still space for Him to speak in to. 

And similarly, we can only really hear others’–our neighbor, friend, and family– when we allow a space for them to speak. When we actually listen. 

I’m sure I’m not alone in being frequently overwhelmed by my to-do list. Or rather, lists. Sometimes it seems I’m wearing so many hats that I might as well be Bartholomew Cubbins.

Many of us could probably do with less on our plates, but for the purpose of this article, I’d actually like to focus on what a blessing busy-ness can be. While I’ve had a few near panic attacks of late, I have also had a positive realization that I hope might be helpful to some of you. That realization is this:

Having things to do is a blessing. They are signs that I’m really living.

Sometimes I feel as though I am desperately waiting for the next chance to rest. Rest is good. The Lord built rest into the very fabric of creation, so we know that it’s divinely recommended. But is rest the point of living? No. The point of living is to be useful. Yes, we can (and often do) take on too much. But if we strike some kind of balance between rest and busy-ness, then having chock full days of errands and chores can truly be a blessing. They are a sign that we are deeply alive, humming with uses. 

I’ve been thinking about the concept in the Writings of following truth because of the fact that it’s true and doing good because it is good.  Another way to put it is following truth for its own sake or doing good for its own sake.  As I go about my days, I regularly notice that my motives are a mixed bag.  As often as not, when I contemplate doing something good or following something true, my motives turn out to involve making myself look good or making somebody like me.

I know that noticing my self-centered motivations, disheartening as it can be, is actually a first step towards something better; at least I am noticing my motives (even if after the fact) instead of being completely unaware or even ignoring my motives.  And I am grateful that the Lord makes use of such less-than-perfect motivations as He leads us towards something better. 

I have recently realized that there’s an inspiring side to that concept from the Writings about following truth for its own sake and doing good for its own sake.  How amazing to aim for a place where I will follow truth or do good, not for selfish reasons, but because the Lord has made me aware of goodness and truth in their true colors – they are the most beautiful, innocent, touching and strong forces in the universe (because they come from Him).  The real characteristics of actual good and actual truth are inherently inspiring.  Goodness and truth are worth choosing for their own quality.  I know that’s super obvious in a sense, but I guess I’m seeing it from a different perspective. 

I write for a living, in more ways than one. I earn money by writing. I also write lengthy communications for everything from saving the planet to family health updates. And of course, there are my journals.

Writing as a medium is, no doubt, intricately influenced by era, culture, and mediums. Which is why Swedenborg’s sheer verbosity astounds me—it would be amazing enough if the Writings, all 7000 pages of them, were typed! My dad believes that the brain works differently when typing vs. writing by hand, and I suspect he’s right. 

But one thing hasn’t changed, and that is that we still are responsible for our own writing—or at least, we should be. Anonymity in online media today is a sure route down a rabbit hole into acrimony, hostility and mistaken assumptions. I am careful to only write what I am willing to put my name behind, for better or for worse. This has helped me to acquire a level of caution I didn’t used to have, and also discouraged, or at least slowed, my reactive (usually passionate) declarations or responses.

I want my words to be heard. I want them to matter. I want them to make the world better. These are not bad things!