Growing up, I loved to visit my Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Turner. They lived on a farm with a large white farmhouse that had a beautiful front porch. Even though I lived on a farm too, it wasn’t the same. My dad farmed on the side and on the weekends, because during the week he was building bridges and tunnels across Virginia, West Virginia, and North Carolina. Visiting my aunt and uncle felt like going to a real farm. They had all kinds of animals including sheep, dairy cows, horses, sheep dogs, goldfish, and barn cats. It seemed like there was a new litter of kittens every time I visited. From the moment we arrived, it felt like a wonderful adventure.
Huge goldfish swam in the cement pond, which was not a swimming pool for those of you who are Beverly Hillbilly fans. It was a cement water trough that my uncle filled with goldfish. I spent hours watching those fish swim around and thinking they were so lucky to live with Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Turner. After traipsing across the yard, I would make my way to the big red barn so I could play with the kittens and see any new calves or lambs that had been born. I sometimes would take a kitten and go to the front porch where a little piece of heaven awaited me. Heaven, in this instance, was a white porch swing. Something about that swing made me feel safe. There were moments when I would softly swing, play with a kitten, and think about life. Other times I would swing as hard and fast as I could. I thought that if I could get that swing going high enough, I would surely touch the ceiling with my feet. It’s a miracle that I didn’t break my neck or the swing. Either way, it was like being transported to another world. In fact, that quiet time on the swing felt a lot like what I imagine David was feeling when he wrote Psalm 23. The Lord is my shepherd... He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul (Psalm 23:1-2 ESV).
Most of us get the concept of rest that David describes, but too often we think this type of rest is accomplished when we go on vacation or a getaway. While our responsibilities may look different when we are away from home, we still have responsibilities. I’m not sure when I realized that going on vacation was not equivalent to soul rest. Instead, it was simply a change of location and scenery. Three or four days into my time off, I would finally make the mental shift from my “normal” life to a “vacation” mindset only to return home a few days later. Plus, my vacations were usually filled with more activity than down time that allowed me to rest.
A few years ago when I went home for a visit with my family, someone asked me to pray for a meal. If you are a minister, you are the official prayer for most occasions. I responded that I couldn’t because I was on vacation. The room came to a complete stop as everyone looked at me as if I had lost my mind. I started laughing and promised them that I wasn’t taking a vacation from God. I was choosing to rest from always being the token prayer of meals simply because I am a minister in the church. Most of them didn’t get it, but I realized something that had not been obvious before. My soul was longing for a rest, not more religious or nonreligious activity. I was not forsaking my calling. I was still longing to be with the shepherd in the green pastures and to spend time with him by the still waters. Those times are experienced in God’s presence, not determined by a location or a calendar. For the record, I prayed a lot while I was home, but it was mostly when I was spending time with God, which brings me back to the porch swing.
Many years have passed since I enjoyed my aunt’s front porch swing, but I never lost the sense or longing for that experience. A couple of years ago when I bought my house, I fell in love with it when I saw the front porch. It was just perfect for a swing, but it took me two years to get one. Friends from church came over a few weeks ago and helped me hang my new swing and some Boston ferns. I had no idea that we were creating a green pasture and still waters place, but that is what happened. If you drive by my house most mornings or evenings, you will likely see me swinging. In fact, I spent three hours there on Tuesday night talking with God about a decision. On the swing, God met me and gave me rest. He also gave me the wisdom I needed for the decision, but that was the byproduct of being in God’s presence. Mostly, he quieted my heart, reminded me of who he was and how much he loves me, and assured me that everything was under his control. Even though I didn’t try to touch the ceiling with my feet, it felt like I touched the heavens. I made myself go inside as darkness descended on my neighborhood, but my soul was at rest because what I needed wasn’t a vacation. I simply needed to be with God, and he chose to meet me on my front porch. It’s become my haven from heaven. And it’s pretty nice, so feel free to stop by for a visit. I’m convinced that God really likes that porch swing.
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