Visit A Sideways Glance and you’ll discover that Zoe Sandvig spent a couple of months in the country where she was born: Australia.
In one of her posts she describes “one of the most breathtakingly sleepy towns on the southern edge of New South Wales: Nelligen.” A town that “invites passersby to take a Sunday afternoon nap with it.”
Is there a place you’ve been that invites rest? That creates an oasis, a retreat, a space to let go? Have you found your Nelligen?
There was just something about Nelligen that made me feel like I could rest from the world’s eye, as if I could blend into the muted green landscape and go unnoticed for hours. Or chase a kangaroo until I gave up or it outran me (both happened). Or sit in the backseat of a “ute” (utility vehicle) with the windows rolled down, bounding over dirt roads, thinking of nothing more than what kind of lemonade I’d like to sip on the other end of the drive.
It felt like rest. Real rest.
Not the kind of rest that comes when you tell yourself to turn off the TV for two hours to read a book, but the kind of rest that can only happen after eight weeks of practice. And that’s what this trip has become for me: a marathon of rest. Of finding myself breathing the largest mental breath of relief, and allowing it to sink into every pore. (Read “Nelligen” in its entirety HERE)
Much as I dream of it, I can’t travel to Australia. But reading about Nelligen, about how Zoe was able to find herself breathing “the largest mental breath of relief,” has me thinking about something.
Maybe it’s a bit of a stretch, but I wonder if this season of Lent could provide a kind of extended rest. By purposefully choosing to restrict something in my life, to simplify, or even to add something meaningful, might I find myself leaning on and resting in Christ in a deeper way?
How could the 40 days of Lent provide a “marathon of rest”?
What are your plans for Lent?
Will they lead to rest?