And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin: And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith? —Matthew 6:28-30 KJV (emphasis mine)
The day started out as usual. My alarm rang at 5:30 am, and I tumbled out of bed and started my daily chores. Tea kettle set to boil for me, hot coffee for my husband. I ironed his clothing for the day, made his lunch, set out his breakfast, and fixed my cup of tea. Then, we both savored our quiet times, he at the dining room table, me on the couch. I’d forgotten to bake the muffins for a small group he leads at the Christian school on Fridays, so I made them after quiet time, hopped in the car, and got them to school on time for the meeting. Next up? I answered some emails and did a few essentials on the computer.
At 9:00 am, with many tasks still left to do, I stopped. The computer was not only silenced but turned off, and the home office door firmly shut behind me as I exited with my beloved Selah bag. It was time to slow down, and I was ready. Past ready, really, for a day of “considering” and simply being with God. Work will wait. It always does. The world continues to turn even though I walk away from undone tasks.
When I first started taking a “Selah Day” every month, it took me nearly an hour to stop feeling restless and slightly guilty that I was not producing and checking off boxes on my to-do list. I also felt guilt that I was sometimes bored when the whole point of a Selah Day was to spend time with the Lord. How dreadful to feel anxious to be done! Today, though, having built this practice into my life for over a decade, a garment of peacefulness and quiet cloaks me smoothly and completely. I sigh with deep contentment.
I call Bella, my little dog, and put on her leash. It snowed lightly the night before, and it’s cold on this New Hampshire morning. Dressed in coat, mittens, and warm hat, and Bella even sporting an extra layer to keep her warm, off we go. The sky is a beautiful blue, with scattered clouds lazily moving above me. The sun actually has some warmth on this February day, and my heart is light. I slow my pace. I’m in no hurry. No appointment that I have to rush back to. I can consider the beauty around me.
In our verse today, Jesus calls His followers to “consider the lilies.” Well. We have no lilies above ground in February in this part of the world, that’s for sure. However, we have the purity of the snow, softening the contours of the landscape and highlighting tree branches. Undulating fields beyond my home are pristine and sparkling in the sunlight. I consider these as I walk and quietly chat with the God who bids me come to Him. I come! We savor our walk together, God, Bella, and me. Here on this country road, tears spring to my eyes as I marvel anew that God comes near and chooses to be with little me, a tiny human in a sea of billions of humans. What. An. Honor. Just. Wow.
Back at the house, I light a fire in the fireplace and drag my big brown chair near to toast my toes a bit. With a hot mug of decaf coffee at my side and a bag with my Bible, other books, a journal, and a pen at the ready, I linger. Not touching any of them just yet. Simply gazing at the fire, praying for loved ones, stilling my mind, waiting to hear from the Lord. What will He have me dwell on and consider today? Eventually, I choose a book—and I love the way the author leads me toward the Bread of Life. I consider that He is bread and sustenance and just what I crave.
I nap. Wake up. Read some more. Decide I’d like popcorn and an apple and a Trader Joe’s mint hot chocolate. Then, back to the fire I go, happily munching popcorn like a kid, smiling at the crackling flames in the brick fireplace I have loved for over 25 years, looking at pictures of my grandchildren, and smiling at the two pictures on either side of the fireplace. They are of a man and a woman—elderly—leaning in prayer over a bowl of soup with a Bible close by. Simple sustenance for them and a reminder for me that here, in this safe space by my fire, being with the God who formed me in my mother’s womb and who loves me, in this quiet space of “not doing,” here in this safe place, I am made whole again. I feel a Shalom-peace that stretches from head to toe, inside and out.
At 1:00 pm, my set-aside time is over. Four quiet hours that felt long and good and warm and right. The very best part of my day. Already, I can’t wait for my Selah time next month, intentionally meeting with God and considering all He lays before me as I listen to Him. Sometimes, I linger longer. I somehow “know” when He and I are finished with our “considering” for the day. I wander back to the office, happy, full, satisfied. Of course, He comes with me! God is near to us. Always. However, after a Selah Day, I remember His presence more deeply and sense it more fully.
Father God, thank You for calling us to times of work and to times of resting and considering who You are and whose we are. I love being Yours, and I am so blessed that You want me—and all Your dear children—to come to You and find that rest. Thank You for the sacrifice of Your Son that makes our closeness possible. It’s in His Name, Jesus, that I pray with great gratitude, Amen.
Click here for a complete guide to having your own Sweet Selah Day!
You are loved,
Sharon
Sweet Selah Ministries
Vision
To inspire a movement away from the belief that “busy is better”
and toward the truth of God’s Word that stillness and knowing
Him matter most—and will be reflected in more effective work and service
Mission
To offer biblical resources and retreats that help women pause (Selah)
and love God more deeply as they know Him more intimately (Sweet)
Donate
If you’ve been blessed, keep the blessing going!
Click over to our Donation page … and thanks.
Share it. Pin it.
