Learning the unforced rhythms of grace

Exploring, resting and listening for the voice of Love.

A few weeks ago I did a small thing that turned out to be a big thing that seems to be changing everything.

To tell you the story I have to first tell you about a stone.

For a couple of years now, this stone has been sitting in my study in a pot with a collection of other stones. The other stones in the pot were gathered at the beach and have their own story but this stone, the one I want to tell you about today, is different.

It was given to me by Sandy, a dear friend who I met when we were both training to become spiritual companions. Sandy is the kind of person who would give you her living room rug because you saw it once and said you liked it. She’s that generous. Being the sort of person she is, Sandy had decided that she wanted to get a gift for everyone in our spiritual direction cohort and she’d seen these engraved stones at a market and thought they were perfect. She chose a selection - one for each of us.

We thought it’d be fun for us to choose our stones without looking at the words so we passed the bag around the group, holding space for each other’s moment of choosing and for the reaction that came when the word was revealed. Mostly we were silent but occasionally someone couldn’t help themselves from exclaiming “that’s perfect for you!” or “oh, how lovely”. Eventually it was my turn. 

"Explore" my stone read.

“I wasn’t sure why I picked that one,” Sandy offered, half-apologetically. 

I wasn’t sure either but I told her I liked the word.

Explore. It felt freeing, inviting, playful. I noticed that the images it conjured for me were physical and solitary - trekking through a wild meadow, wandering through a forest, catching a train somewhere, packing a bag and going on an adventure.

I noticed how much I craved all these things and how they were all eminently doable. I could trek through a meadow, wander through a forest, catch a train somewhere, pack a bag and go on an adventure. Why wasn’t I?

Tentatively, I considered that I could take a day a month to go on an adventure by myself. I would call it my explore day and I’d do something unplanned and out of the ordinary. I was thrilled by the prospect but somehow never got around to doing it. I got better at taking myself for longer walks, saying yes to spontaneous meet-ups and lingering in the woods but I never managed to take a whole day for a solo adventure.

Why? I’m not entirely sure. All I can offer is what I’ve noticed through sitting with people in spiritual direction: sometimes the things we long for most are the things we resist the most. We humans seem to find it hard to believe that what we really want is what is wanted for us. It seems to be difficult for most of us to trust that we are allowed to take more than a sip of life.

A few months ago I started to get signs that I was working too hard and too much. The message came through my body (which ached) and through my dreams (which were full of wild places). It bubbled up on walks and in centering prayer and was echoed in conversations with friends.

One Tuesday, I sat down at my laptop to work on something I’d probably already spent too much time working on and sighed. "What am I doing?" I said inwardly to myself but also to God.

And then, a reply…

“You don’t have to work so hard. It’s not me that’s asking you to do all this.”

It wasn’t an audible voice but it wasn’t exactly a thought either. It was an inner knowing that seemed to be centred in my chest. I recognise these heart knowings as what Henri Nowen calls “the inner voice of love” - the still small voice that speaks at my centre and at yours. 

The words carried no judgement and didn't feel shaming. They reminded me of Eugene Peterson's translation of Matthew  11 28-30:

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly."

It would make a better story if I immediately shut my laptop lid and went off on an adventure. The truth is that I took an hour to sit in the garden and then cracked straight back on.

It wasn’t until several weeks later that I finally took the real break I knew that voice was offering me.

I hadn’t planned it, it just sort of happened. It was Thursday and, unusually, I had a day with no meetings and my dog was with a friend. The sun was shining and, as I got back in the car after dropping the children at school, I realised I had a choice: go home or go explore. I chose explore. Half an hour later I arrived at a favourite English Heritage site - Wrest Park. The centre of the estate is a stately home but it’s the gardens that are the main draw (plus there’s also a second hand bookshop). I’ve been many times before but always with others, never alone.

Any doubts that I’d made the right decision immediately evaporated as soon as I stepped out of the car. I meandered through the gardens, admiring the peonies and pausing to smell the wisteria. I noticed the play of light on the lake and the shadows on the lawn. Slowly, I made my way towards the more naturalistic part of the grounds and claimed a bench in the middle of a foamy sea of cow parsley. I read my book. I let the sun warm my face. I smiled at passers-by. I was fully present.

After a while I wanted to walk again so I went for a wander through the woodland. As I walked, I named what I was feeling: gratitude, relief, amusement (at this decision to finally explore having taken me so long).

“I told you you didn’t need to work so hard…”

Another heart knowing (this one felt like it came with a wink).

“I know,” I inwardly whispered back. “I know it’s not you who is making me work this hard. I want to stop."

Silence.

And then...

“I love you.”

No "if" and no "because". No judgement, no direction. Just: I love you.

It was exactly what I didn’t know I needed to hear in order to release my resistance to rest. In that clear moment of knowing I understood I had nothing to earn and nothing to prove. I was free to live in the overflow of being loved. I was free to let go of trying so hard to get somewhere in particular and just allow myself to explore with Love. Finally, I was learning the unforced rhythm of grace.

I told my spiritual director this story last week and explained that it’s been a turning point for me. “I’m putting living at the centre of my life again,” I told her. “I didn’t realise I was living around the edges of my life.”

At the end of our session, she said she was going to carry the words I'd "heard" herself. I told her I was glad; that it was very clear to me that those words were not just for me but for all of us. I still believe that. It’s the reason I’ve been sharing all this with you. 

"You don’t have to work so hard… I love you”  

I wonder if you can trust that these words are for you too. 

How do they connect with your life and experience?

What might happen if you believed them?

What’s the invitation of this story for you?

Perhaps you can take a few moments to reflect now. Simply name whatever surfaces for you and see if you can stay with it. Take a long loving look at whatever bubbles up and, if you feel inclined, try listening for that inner voice of love. If that doesn't seem to work or you're not sure you're hearing right, don't worry. If this story has anything to offer you, let it be this: if something is important for you to receive, it will keep being offered. Love always seems to find a way.
  

Jen x