“This oak was already old when I was born.
Now I am old and soon to die, and this tree grows strong still.
We are small creatures.
Our lives are not long,
but long enough to learn.”
— Stephen Lawhead
In addition to my University work, I also work part-time as a Hospice Chaplain. It’s work I love but also gives great perspective to what is actually meaningful in this life apart from our daily anxieties and fears.
We are small creatures. Our lives are not long… but long enough to learn.
This is part of the call of the more contemplative life: not to rush through our short span of days, trying to accomplish, perform, or perfect—but to be still long enough, to be open and to learn. To remain open. To grow deep. To be open to wonder, not knowing all the answers, but listening for the whispers of the divine in the mystery of it all. God is loud often in the small and quiet moments, the deep is often found in the quiet.
If we’re intentional to that slow work—if we let our roots grow in the silent disciplines of prayer, study and humility—then something deep and beautiful starts to happen. We begin to grow and bear fruit in our lives and that flourishes in our local communities. Not flashy, performative fruit, but the quiet kind the world desperately needs: mercy, compassion, peace, love. This is the intent of the contemplative life.
That’s the life I want to live. One where the roots come before the fruit. Where my unseen life with God nourishes everything that others do see in me and from me.
We don’t need to do it all in this life. We don’t need to know it all. But we do have time—just enough—to learn what really matters. To grow deep. To love well.
Oak trees don't rush, and neither should you. They can anchor deep to weather the storms, so can you.
Welcome to the Good Life, my friends!