Sometimes I buy into the lie that I need to create space, choose silence, for the purpose of creating, of writing, of processing. In the past couple weeks, I’ve been fighting for the space, and believe me, it has been a fight, and yet the words aren’t coming. My vision does not necessarily feel clearer. Even though the silence and space is not a launching pad, that does not mean it is wasted.

So often we fill up the gas tank of life only to go on a long drive and burn through the fuel quickly. Who wants to leave a car with a full gas tank parked in their driveway? No one. Cars are meant to be driven. But my body is not a car, and my soul is not a vehicle to add miles onto.

Right now I do necessarily feel the creativity flowing, but the silence is restoring me. The silence and the stillness are creating in me something new.

In the quiet balcony of my apartment, I feel my breathing deepen and my heart beat slow.

Restoration is not for the sake of falling right back into the same behaviors that necessitated the restoring. It’s about being brought back to the original place so you can do it again, with a new perspective, and hopefully in a different way. For me, I hope this means I can create better. But, it may mean something new entirely. Perhaps not doing any one thing better, but being better.

This year I have been learning new rhythms. They create space for more grace and more depth. But sometimes, I want to default back to old patterns, and my old way, where more is better and fast is the only way. For anyone who has tried running, you know that it is impossible to run two paces at the same time. And yet I try. I try to be both a sprinter and a marathoner at the same time, failing equally at both.

There are growing pains in learning this new, slower rhythm. The silence can feel lonely, or the depth can feel so vulnerable. But the growing pains are good. They are evidence that growth is happening, newness is springing up within me.

Confidence, security and transparency with the Lord are all worth learning new rhythms, and the discomfort that comes along with them. They are worth sitting in the silence, even when it feels unproductive. The Lord does not long to restore my soul to enable me to create, but because I am His creation. My life will be His masterpiece, not what I write or speak, but me. Me, in His image, being used for His glory.

It is only in the silence that my soul can be restored, and I can begin to let Him create in me. What He is creating in me is far better than anything I can create.