August 2026 – Pastor Clegguart Mitchell

Be Still, and Know

It is possible to stop working without actually resting.

You can leave the office while continuing the conversation in your head. You can sit down while mentally working through tomorrow’s list. You can take a day off and spend most of it thinking about everything you aren’t getting done. You can even go on vacation and bring your worries with you.

Sometimes our bodies stop long before our minds do.

Last week I wrote about Jesus telling His disciples, “Come away…and rest a while.” There is something important about recognizing our limits and learning to stop. But stopping and resting are not always the same thing. Sometimes we stop what we are doing only to discover how much we are still carrying.

Perhaps that is one reason these familiar words from Psalm 46 are so important: “Be still, and know that I am God.” – Psalm 46:10

Psalm 46 is not describing peaceful circumstances. The earth gives way. Mountains are moved. Waters roar. Nations rage. Kingdoms totter. And right in the middle of all that turmoil, God says, “Be still, and know that I am God.”

In other words, this isn’t simply an invitation to find a quiet place. It is a call to stop striving and remember who is actually in control.

Notice that God doesn’t simply say, “Be still.” He says, “Be still, and know.” Biblical stillness is not merely inactivity. It gives us an opportunity to remember what our anxious activity so easily forgets.

He is God. I am not.

He is sovereign. I am not.

He knows what tomorrow holds. I do not.

He is able to carry what I cannot.

He is at work in places I cannot see, and in circumstances I cannot control.

Sometimes the hardest part of resting isn’t stopping what our hands are doing. It is releasing what our hearts are carrying.

We rehearse conversations that have already happened.

We anticipate problems that haven’t happened.

We imagine outcomes.

We try to solve tomorrow’s difficulties today.

And somewhere along the way, we can begin carrying responsibilities God never actually gave us. That can feel like responsibility. It can even feel productive. But there are things we simply cannot control, no matter how many times we turn them over in our minds.

Jesus asked a wonderfully simple question: “And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?” – Matthew 6.27

Worry accomplishes remarkably little for all the energy it consumes. Perhaps that is why genuine rest requires more than an empty calendar. It requires trust.

There are burdens we need to put down. There are questions we need to leave unanswered. There are circumstances we need to entrust to God. There are conversations we cannot control. There are outcomes we cannot guarantee. And there are tomorrows we need to leave where God put them – in tomorrow.

None of this means that we stop caring, planning, praying, or acting responsibly. It means that after we have done what God has given us to do, we trust Him with what He has not given us to control.

That may be one of the hardest forms of rest. But it may also be one of the sweetest. “Be still, and know that I am God.”

Sometimes we need to stop long enough to remember who God is.

And sometimes remembering who God is is what finally allows our hearts to rest.

Come Away and Rest Awhile

There is almost always something else that could be done.

Another email could be answered. Another project could be finished. Another room could be cleaned. Another phone call could be made. Another problem could be solved.

And if we aren’t careful, we can begin to live as though stopping is irresponsible.

After all, Scripture has a great deal to say about hard work. God does not commend laziness. We are called to diligence, faithfulness, and making good use of the time He gives us. There is something good about going to bed tired after a day spent doing what God has given us to do.

But apparently faithfulness also includes knowing when to stop.

After a particularly busy season of ministry, Jesus said to His disciples, “Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while.” – Mark 6.31

What makes those words especially striking is what Mark tells us next: “For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat.” There were people everywhere. There were needs to be met. There was ministry to be done. And Jesus said, Come away and rest. That is worth thinking about.

Sometimes we imagine that rest is what we do when everything else is finished. We will slow down when the project is completed. We will take some time off when things settle down. We will rest when there is nothing pressing that needs our attention.

The problem is that everything is rarely finished. There will always be something more we could do. Which means that if we only permit ourselves to rest when there is nothing left to do, we may never really rest at all.

Perhaps learning to rest is also learning to trust.

There is a kind of humility in stopping. When I stop working, I am reminded that I am not indispensable. I have limits. I get tired. I need sleep. I need quiet. I need time away. God made me that way. And while I rest, God does not.

The psalmist says, “He who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep” (Psalm 121.4). What a comforting distinction. I need rest. God does not.

The world does not depend upon my constant activity. My family does not ultimately depend upon me. My church does not ultimately depend upon me. My work does not ultimately depend upon me. Everything ultimately depends upon Him.

That doesn’t make me less diligent. It frees me to work hard when it is time to work – and to rest without guilt when it is time to rest.

Of course, there are seasons that require unusual effort. There are late nights and early mornings. There are emergencies and deadlines. There are babies who don’t sleep, people who need us, unexpected problems, and responsibilities that cannot simply be postponed.

Sometimes faithfulness really does require us to keep going when we would rather stop. But those seasons should also remind us why rhythms of rest matter.

We were never designed for constant activity. And sometimes our refusal to stop may say less about our diligence than we think. It may reveal how difficult it is for us to believe that things can continue without us.

Rest reminds us that we are creatures – and God is God.

So sometimes the godly thing to do really is to take the afternoon off. To go for a walk. To sit somewhere quiet. To take the vacation. Maybe even to take the nap. Not because our responsibilities don’t matter. Not because diligence is unimportant. But because we trust the One who remains at work when we are not.

Jesus looked at tired disciples surrounded by unfinished ministry and unmet needs and said, “Come away…and rest a while.”

Maybe some of us need to hear Him say that again.

Still My Favorite Love Story

Thirty-three years ago today, a young man and a young woman stood before God, surrounded by family and friends, and promised one another a lifetime.

Like every young couple, we had plans. We had dreams. We wondered where life would take us.

We talked about children – possibly two or three… maybe four if we were feeling especially adventurous.

We smiled at the future because we imagined we knew what it might look like. We didn’t. Not even close.

We had no idea that God would entrust us with eight wonderful children. We had no idea that one day our home would be filled with laughter, music, muddy shoes, backpacks, late-night conversations, birthday parties, grandchildren, and more memories than either of us could ever count.

We had no idea how many miles we would travel together. How many churches we would serve. How many prayers we would pray. How many tears we would quietly wipe away.

How many times we would find ourselves standing in hospital rooms, sitting beside grieving families, rejoicing at weddings, celebrating new life, or simply holding one another after another long day.

Looking back now, I realize something. We spent a lot of time making plans. God spent all along writing a far better story.

One of His greatest gifts to me was Jenny.

Most people know her as sweet – and they are absolutely right. She is. But they don’t always get to see the whole picture.

They don’t know how quick she is with a comeback. How delightfully sharp her sense of humor can be. Or that every now and then she can say something so unexpectedly funny that I find myself laughing long after everyone else has moved on.

They don’t always know that after thirty-three years she still has the remarkable ability to roll her eyes at one of my jokes with perfect timing. (It is still my opinion that the audience is occasionally the problem.)

I still love her beautiful red hair.

I still love her smile.

I still love the sparkle in her eyes.

And yes… after all these years, we still enjoy “sporting” together.

Some things simply get better with time.

But if all I said were those things, I would miss what I admire most. I have watched Jenny quietly pour herself into people for decades.

She loves children – not because she has to, but because she genuinely delights in them. She notices widows. She encourages women. She serves our church without seeking attention. She sings God’s praises with sincerity. She opens her Bible faithfully. Again and again, I have watched her choose faithfulness in all the ordinary places where character is truly formed.

The world often celebrates the loud and the impressive. God delights in the faithful.

That is the woman I married.

There is one more thing I want to say – something that perhaps very few people know.

There have been seasons when I have felt weary. Moments when leadership felt heavy. Days when I questioned myself more than I questioned anyone else. And in those moments, God has often strengthened me through Jenny.

Her confidence in me has steadied me. Her affection has comforted me. Her prayers have upheld me. Her quiet faith has reminded me to trust the Lord again. She probably doesn’t even realize how many times God has used her to help me stand when I felt weak.

For that, I will always be grateful.

When I married Jenny, I thought I was choosing the woman who would make my life happier. Thirty-three years later, I realize God was giving me the woman who would help make me more like Christ. That is a far greater gift.

Jenny… Thank you for believing in a young man who had more enthusiasm than wisdom.

Thank you for walking beside me through every season God has ordained. Thank you for laughing with me. Praying with me. Forgiving me. Encouraging me. Serving with me. Growing with me.

Most of all, thank you for loving Christ more than you have ever loved me. That has been one of the greatest blessings of my life.

If someone were to ask me whether I would do it all again – knowing every joy, every hardship, every surprise, every blessing, and every sorrow these thirty-three years would hold…

My answer would be immediate. Without hesitation. Without reservation. Without changing a single thing that brought me to this moment beside you.

I would still choose you.

Thirty-three years ago, I thought I was inviting you to share my life. Looking back, I realize God was inviting both of us into a story that neither of us could have imagined. And what a beautiful story it has been.

Happy Anniversary, my love.

Thank you for thirty-three wonderful years.

By God’s grace, I look forward to whatever chapters He is pleased to write next.

Why We Sing What We Sing

Have you ever left Sunday morning worship thinking, “I just didn’t get much out of the singing today”?

Perhaps the songs weren’t familiar. Perhaps they weren’t your preferred style. Perhaps they simply didn’t resonate with you the way you hoped they would. I have.

Sometimes I’ve concluded that I simply preferred different songs. Churches don’t always make the same musical choices, and not every song will resonate with every believer in exactly the same way.

But sometimes the problem wasn’t the songs. Sometimes I just forgot what congregational singing was actually for. It’s very easy to evaluate worship by asking questions like:

– Did I enjoy those songs?
– Did they move me emotionally?
– Did I connect with them?

Those aren’t unimportant questions, but perhaps they may not be the first questions.

The Apostle Paul gives us a different perspective in Colossians 3.16. He tells us that as God’s people sing, “the word of Christ” dwells richly among them. Their songs teach. They admonish. They encourage. They fill hearts and minds with truth.

That means congregational singing is doing far more than creating an emotional experience. God is using it to shape His people.

I’ve found myself increasingly grateful for faithful congregational singing. Not because every song has been my favorite, or because every arrangement has reflected my personal preferences, but because I’ve been reminded what God is doing through it.

Faithful congregational singing doesn’t simply accompany worship; it quietly helps shape the hearts of those who participate in it. Congregational singing is the weekly rehearsal of reality.

Every Sunday the church helps one another remember what the rest of the week conspires to make us forget:
– God is still holy.
– Christ is still worthy.
– The gospel is still true.
– Our hope is still secure.

We are not teaching God these things. We are reminding our emotions of them.

The world spends six days pulling our attention in a thousand different directions. It quietly teaches us to measure life by our circumstances, our emotions, our successes, our disappointments, and our fears.
Then the Lord’s Day comes.

God gathers His people, and together they sing truths that gently reorient their hearts toward what is eternally true.

That also helps explain why the songs we sing matter. The question isn’t whether a song is old or new. Nor is it simply whether it is musically excellent or emotionally moving. The better question is this: Where is this song directing my attention?

Some songs primarily magnify the greatness, holiness, faithfulness, and worthiness of God. Others spend most of their time occupied with us – our feelings, our experiences, our commitments, and our responses.

To be sure, there is a proper place for singing about what God has done in our lives. Scripture itself does that often. But biblical worship has a remarkable way of lifting our eyes beyond ourselves to the One who is worthy of our praise.

The next time you gather with God’s people, don’t begin by asking, “Did I enjoy the singing?”

Rather ask: Did these songs help me see God more clearly?

Because perhaps the greatest gift of congregational singing isn’t that it simply gives expression to our hearts. It’s that, week after week, it gently teaches our hearts where they belong.