22 Oct Enough For Now
During my sophomore year of college, I spent the fall semester studying in London. By December, the weather was cold and rainy, and I was tired, burned out by the demands of classes, and missing home. One afternoon, I wandered into St. Paul’s Cathedral. It was warm inside, a welcome escape from the drizzle. A service was about to begin, and I stayed.
Great stone arches rose above me, gold gleamed in the mosaics, and painted figures filled the enormous dome overhead. I expected the sermon to be as elaborate as the surroundings. I was still studying the ceiling when the preacher began talking about someone who was completely worn out and couldn’t face one more thing.
That I could follow.
He was telling the story of Elijah, who had fled into the wilderness and walked for a day before sitting down beneath a solitary broom tree. His was the kind of depletion that reaches into everything, body and spirit. He was done. He said as much, then lay down and fell asleep.
An angel gently woke him and told him to eat. Beside his head were a cake baked on coals, which I like to picture as a pancake, and a jar of water. So he ate and drank, then lay down again.
Food, water, and more sleep. Enough for now.
It was comforting to hear about the order of things. Before figuring out what to do next, something to eat. Before carrying on, some rest. All of this offered to a man lying under a tree, quite certain he couldn’t go any further.
Beneath that magnificent dome, the advice was simple enough for my tired self to follow. Have a little food. Get some sleep. See how things look afterward.
I left the cathedral, bought myself something to eat, and went back to my room for a long nap.