I began 2025, determined to change a few things in my life. However, I am somewhat reluctant to call these New Year’s resolutions, as a YouGov survey indicates that 17% of people in the UK abandon their resolutions within a month, and 21% give up after 2–3 months.
One of the changes (resolutions) is to fit back into the many clothes that mysteriously seem to have shrunk over the past year (I blame the washing temperature); another is to become more intentional in my praying. Both changes involve diets; the first relates to food, and the second pertains to cutting out some of the busyness and hurry in my life. It means I may be forced to disappoint some of you over the coming months as I seek to reorientate my diary around God’s call and will for me.
I am prayerfully working through a challenging book by Tyler Staton called ‘Praying Like Monks, Living Like Fools’, which I thoroughly recommend. One of the early chapters is entitled ‘Be still and know’ and reflects on the latter verses from Psalm 46, known to many of us: Be still and know that I am God.
I have often regarded ‘being still’ as passive, akin to simply sitting back and doing nothing while waiting for something to happen. This perspective is why, as an activist, I find it so challenging. The Latin for ‘Be still’ is ‘vacate,’ from which we derive the English word vacation, which perhaps does not help our understanding. More insight is gained from the Hebrew word for ‘be still’, which is raphah. Raphah is more than merely sitting down and silencing our thoughts; it’s an image of letting our hands drop, which can be translated as ‘sinking’ or ‘relaxing’.
Psalm 46 is attributed to the sons of Korah, the crew that David gathered for night and day prayer in the Tabernacle. It was in an age of tribal warfare, and some commentators suggest that the phrase ‘Be still’ could be read as a general rebuke from God; it is His way of saying, “Don’t even try it”. That’s why some translations render this verse as ‘Stop fighting’ or ‘Stop striving.’
I am aware that I strive a lot; I’ve grown too accustomed to being busy, hurrying, and trying to be a better Christian. When Dallas Willard was asked what was needed to be spiritually healthy, he replied, “You must ruthlessly eliminate hurry from your life.” Perhaps the challenge of stillness for me is to stop striving and shift my focus from my problems to God’s promises. Stillness, as Staton observes, “is the quiet space where God migrates from the periphery back to the centre, and prayer pours forth from the life that has God at the centre.”[1]
Instead of viewing ‘being still’ as a passive act akin to merely sitting back and awaiting events, what if ‘being still’ meant surrendering, relinquishing my efforts at self-preservation and self-advancement?
Richard Foster warns that in contemporary society, “our adversary [a biblical title for the Devil] majors in noise, hurry, and crowds. If he can keep us engaged in ‘muchness’ and ‘manyness,’ he will rest satisfied.” I believe that in 2025, God is calling me to simplify and slow down, to set aside time for ‘stillness’, to look again at my diary, and at the risk of disappointing some, clearing some room and creating space. If God can help me with this, then fitting once again into size 32R jeans will be no problem.
“Be still… and know… that I am…”
Simon Mattholie
CEO, Rural Ministries
[1] Staton, T. (2022) Praying like monks, living like fools, Hodder & Stoughton, p.44
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