Lover of the Light

I intensely dislike bugs and insects, especially winged ones... and winged ones that dive at my head. 

Last night a large moth somehow ended up in my room, wildly beating its wings and smacking into the wall as I was trying to have some quiet time to reflect on the upcoming school year. My pen stopped its furious scrawling, and I looked up to glare at the offender. It was smaller than the racket it was making.

I had been contemplating what it means to "be still," and to simply dwell in the Lord's presence, despite the neverending to-do list of being a first year teacher in a new country.

I watched the moth again. It dove furiously at the small light fixture, exhausting itself in the pursuit of the light. And for the first time, instead of annoyance I felt pity. Every time it got close to the light to settle in for the night in the heat of the bulb, it would suddenly fly off, dipping and swerving around the room until it had worked itself to exhaustion. It would carefully land on the light again, only to flit away.

As much as I was annoyed, I realized that I'm so much like that annoying moth. I'm always flitting about trying to be more holy, or do more, or please God more. But my attempts at "dwelling" are only me running around in circles. At the exact moment I learn to be still, I run away.

In all its striving, the moth just knocks into things, and actually distorts the light by casting its own (gross) shadow everywhere.

Today was a day I've been looking forward to for over a year. It's taken over a year of preparation to arrive at this particular "first day of school." I've jumped through hoops, I've raised support, and I've accomplished a seemingly endless list of tasks, not to mention moving countries.

It's easy to think that I got myself here. That it was through my hard work that I am now teaching middle school at the International Christian School of Budapest. But when I slow down long enough to check my pride, I remember the way the Lord had led me each step of the way. It was in the quiet moments of dwelling in His presence that I was able to move forward.

I'm learning to cease striving. To be still. To dwell.