I am a very enthusiastic starter, especially in the fall.
This is the time of year when new groups, classes, and opportunities open up and I want to sign up for everything! Classes at the pottery studio, the small group at church, not to mention all of the fabulous offerings that are now online. So many good things beckon to me, each promising to enhance my life. As I watch children walk past my home on their way to school it also makes me want to learn new things, get the new pens, and of course a pretty new notebook.
I have often signed up for all the things and then found myself resentful, stressed, always feeling rushed and never enjoying those activities which I thought would bring me joy and growth. I have a tendency to try to do too much, to take on just one more thing. I don’t believe this way of living is what Jesus had in mind when He was talking about abundant life. He was not referring to our abundance of possessions, opportunities, or new skills but rather an inner fullness and wealth.
I drive by the farmer’s fields, some of which are golden swaying seas of wheat, others filled with rows upon rows of soldierly corn stalks, and other fertile sections which have been empty all season. The latter are the fallow fields. Purposely left unplanted to allow the field to rest and be restored, giving time for the soil to repair.
It has taken most of my life to start learning the lesson that the inner abundance I am after begins with what feels like fallow time. Rather than every area of life full to the brim, I recognize the need for space, for margin, time to breathe slowly and deeply. It is here, just like the renewal taking place in the ground, that a replenishing of my soul can take place. It is here, as I make space for God, that His Spirit has room to move and work.
My inclination to do it all, leaves me skimming across the surface of life, never getting down to the rich depths which are only accessed when we stay in place, linger, and allow our minds to roam.
It is only as we have space that the ideas, lessons and the inner workings of our hearts can settle down into the cracks and crevices and take us deeper. When we are busy, we live shallow, when we have fallow time, we live deep into what really matters. Those issues we once thought were black and white, now become greyer, nuanced. Easy answers slip aside to make way for thoughtful, compassionate “considerings”. We may find ourselves moving away from certainty and into a more open fluid space.
The tendency to fill our days to the brim keeps us from us from being in the present moment. When we are always pursuing more, we lose what we already have. Slowing down and noticing the gifts enclosed in the moment we are in is a way to live more deeply and with a greater awareness of the presence of God with us. How often do we come to the end of the day or week and think these words expressed by Jacob after his struggle with God, "Surely the LORD is in this place, and I was not aware of it." (Gen. 28:16) Only in our slowness and attentiveness can we receive all that God has for us.
How do we do this?
It does not take much to begin incorporating fallow time into our days. It can start with 15 minutes per day of purposeful rest; laying aside the phone, TV, computer, and those restless activities with which we habitually fill our time. To allow ourselves the luxury of white space.
The people of God, from the very beginning were commanded to allow for fallow time – they were to observe the Sabbath.
“Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath of the Lord your God; in it you shall not do any work…” Exodus 20:8‐10a
A time of rest from their labors, built in white space for their replenishing. It was a way to honor God, but also a way of caring for their bodies and souls. These commands also applied to their land – every seventh year their fields were to be left unplowed and unplanted.
Life looks quite different for us today than it was in ancient Israel, but the principles of healthy living God gave still apply. We are not working machines – we need rest. We need those times in our days and weeks to be replenished and restored. We also need the reminder that we are not God. By embracing sabbath we acknowledge that there is One in control, ordering and sustaining my world even as I rest. We are given a reminder of our creaturely dependence on our Creator.
Sabbath speaks relief to my heart which often deludes itself with ideas of self-sufficiency and complete autonomy. My resting also silences the voice of the orphan within who tells me I am alone and it’s all up to me. I am reminded of my limitations and that I need not fill every day to the brim.
This seemingly unproductive time, this fallow ground, is offering all that our souls desperately need. As we begin to receive the rest of God, we “become able to resist the culture’s killing rhythms of drivenness and depletion, compulsion and collapse.”[i] We are able to replace filled schedules with filled hearts and minds.
As I drive past the empty fields, they remind me that I too need fallow time. Next year I can expect a healthy crop to be growing in this space which has been dormant. I will be able to see the benefits of the time the field rested.
This fall I am resisting; I am saying “no” to many good things that might fill my days but not my soul. The question we need to be asking is not “What do I fill my time with?” but rather “What do I want to give my time to?” “What is worthy of my investment?” and “Which choices will also allow time for rest?”
As you carve out time to stop and rest may you encounter Jesus coming to meet you with life overflowing.
[i] Taylor, B. B. (2010). An altar in the world: A geography of faith. New York: HarperOne.
Photo 1 - Evie Shaffer, Photo 2 - Magda V., Photo 3 - Jonny Gios all from Unsplash