“In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and confidence shall be your strength.” ~ Isaiah 30:15
The movement caught me, and held tight. A weary day, stormy clouds abound around the ceaseless fluttering, the tumultuous zig zag arch from above to below. Burnt-orange and brown flecked, paper-thin wings reaching and dropping, reaching and dropping, but never gaining.
Never gaining.
Always fluttering, searching. Striving ceaselessly.
Beads of moisture from heavy clouds fall down, down. Steady, relentless. Tiny pearls of liquid plummeting from the sky’s moist fullness, too much to contain.
Still, the wings flutter. Drive and retreat, push and beat, the delicate form laboring through air and water.
Always fluttering, searching. Striving ceaselessly.
“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my Yoke is easy and My burden is light.” ~ Matthew 11:28-30
My eyes follow the ceaseless striving. Lord, why doesn’t the butterfly notice the emerald shelter just below? Right there. Inches yet endless miles away. Rest, butterfly. Cease your striving and rest.
Lord, can’t he see the solid, certain, unchanging, saving hedge nearly touch-tipping his wings? Right there, little one. Instead rain drips down steadily, damaging beating, dainty wings that are life.
Finally, wings slow. Reaching, gripping, ceasing. Wings flutter still, stop. Striving drops off, ceases. Ceases. Rest pours in, filling.
And I see. Myself, my striving, all of my own strength. Where does it take me? Ceaseless striving. Useless, tiresome fluttering carries about in zig zag, winding circles. Circles traveling endlessly familiar paths.
Nowhere, just here. My wings beaten down, weary. Without Him, I strive ceaselessly, fluttering aimless, lost.
Striving ceaselessly about, flying of my own strength, missing. Missing Him. Missing His rest, His yoke, His peace, His strength, but mostly Him. Just Him. He’s all I need. All.
Jesus.
Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.
