Radical Rest and Waiting

I walked out of the door to my 200-year-old house.

The crisp of the air hit my skin.

"ah... what a relief," I'm thinking as the sun just breaks over the trees to my right.

It feels like the feels of a new season.

It's been an intense season. Literally and figuratively.

It's been so hot and brutal. Walking outside, it's like a sauna.

It's like straddling a physical and mental desert at the same time.

Tough.

Sometimes, it feels like it's going to be like this forever.

When you're in the desert wasteland, all you see is sand. It's easy to lose hope.

Brutal.
Painful.
Terrible.

The good news is that's not how life is.

I walked over to the rocking chairs on the front porch to soak up every second of solitude with this break in the fall-like weather of silence, and it reminded me…

Seasons come, and seasons go.
Sometimes, it's a season to grow.
Sometimes, it's a season to die.
Sometimes, it's a season of expansion.
Sometimes, it's a season of pruning.

The challenging thing about life's seasons is knowing which season we're in.

Often, we want to be somewhere other than where we are, creating conflict.

I've been in a pruning season, yet I want it to be a growth season.

Nobody likes pruning.
Nobody likes a death of sorts.

But they're necessary.

You can not have one without the other.
You can't have life without death.
You can't grow without pruning.

It is the full expression, sense, and feeling of human life.

And it all must come.

The tricky part is to pay attention, be aware of our season, and not worry about other people's seasons.

My season?

It's been a season of rest. Radical rest.
It's been a season of slowness.
It's been a season of waiting.
Radical rest is an interesting thought.

Our society is plagued with radical busyness. Why?

Here's why: if my calendar isn't full and busy, I must not be doing anything of any value. If I'm not doing anything of any value, then I must not be of value.

There's a part of radical rest that is directly connected to waiting.

Waiting is uncomfortable.
Waiting is vulnerable.
Waiting is letting go.

None of those things have glory.

People are surprised I’ve moved on to the "next big thing."

I'll admit, parts of me want that next big thing.

Based on where I am now, I think that would be violence to my soul.

I'm 43, and if I'm lucky, I'm about halfway through. There's too much living to do than get lost in the drudgery of "success."

So here I am "waiting."

In the waiting, in the slowness, there is radical rest I'm starting to LIVE FROM.

It's a place that is a certain death but a death that brings life.

In radical rest, we find ourselves stiff-arming the unhealthy mode of operations as entrepreneurs.

We are constantly seeking formulas of control.

Formulas to make money.
Formulas to scale our business.
Formulas to explode or follow.
Formulas (in my mind) = sense of control.

If we have control, we have safety.

(btw, I like formulas cause I like control 🫠)

I've come to know there is very little we can control.

The only thing that we can control is ourselves.

It's hilarious when you think about how much we try to control. Lolz.

Other people…
Other people's perception of us.
Our businesses. Our cash flow. Our employees.

Don't keep me wrong. I haven't run the car off the cliff of good practices.

What I'm pondering is how very little control we have. And that's where stewardship comes in. We do the best with what we have, but we don't let that ruin us.

Our control of life easily turns on us and becomes what controls us.

So maybe the invitation to consider today is...

1. Recognizing what season you are in

3. Let go of what you can't control

4. Enter radical rest

Radical rest operates from a place of open-handedness.
We let go of things we can't control.

Yes, we are diligent, we plan, and we prepare. All those things are good.

But what about when it doesn't go our way?

Much love,

Chris