Attitude – 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.

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.

When a Sermon Rubs You the Wrong Way

Have you ever heard a sermon that rubbed you the wrong way?

Maybe something the preacher said bothered you. Maybe you disagreed with the way he said it. Maybe you walked away thinking he was too harsh, too strong, or simply wrong.
I have.

And sometimes, after thinking about it, I have concluded that I really did disagree. Preachers are not infallible. We can misunderstand a passage, say something poorly, or fail to explain something as carefully as we should.

But sometimes the problem was not the sermon. Sometimes the truth had simply gotten too close. And that is much harder to admit.

When a sermon makes us uncomfortable, it is remarkably easy to begin framing our understanding of the sermon around our feelings.
– I felt attacked.
– That sounded unkind.
– I did not like the way he said what he said.

And before long, our reaction to the sermon becomes our interpretation of the sermon.

But feeling uncomfortable does not necessarily mean we have been treated unfairly. Sometimes conviction is uncomfortable. Sometimes correction is uncomfortable. Sometimes the Word of God confronts something in us that we would rather defend than examine.

James writes: “Let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger.” – James 1.19

We often use those words as general advice for relationships and communication, and rightly so. But James is writing about our response to the Word of God. A few verses later, he tells us to “receive with meekness the implanted word.”

Perhaps we need to learn to listen to expositional preaching with expositional hearing.

That means we do not begin with, “How did that make me feel?”
We begin with:
– What did the preacher actually say?
– What was he trying to communicate?
– What does the text actually say?
– And why did this bother me so much?
We would do well to listen prayerfully before reacting quickly.

That does not mean every preacher is right. It does not mean we accept everything we hear without discernment. We should open our Bibles. We should examine the text. We should test what is taught.

But biblical discernment and personal defensiveness are not the same thing.
One wants to know whether the message is true.
The other wants to prove that my reaction was justified.

How we respond when the Word confronts us may reveal more about our hearts than we realize.
– Pride is quick to speak, quick to defend, and quick to assume the problem lies somewhere else.
– Humility is willing to listen again. Humility opens the Bible. Humility prays, “Lord, show me what is true, even if I do not like what I find.”

The next time a sermon rubs you the wrong way, do not be too quick to dismiss it. Listen to it again. Open your Bible. Pray. And ask whether the truth that unsettled you might be the truth you needed to hear.

The Model of Biblical Masculinity

In a culture confused about manhood, we do not need new definitions.

We need to look at Jesus.

He initiated our salvation at the cost of His life.

He led by serving.

He provides for His people.

He protects His church – even to the point of death.

Biblical masculinity is not aggression.

It is not passivity.

It is not selfish ambition.

It is sacrificial leadership, humble service, faithful provision, and courageous protection.

In other words, biblical masculinity looks like Jesus.

The deeper a man’s relationship with Christ, the more he becomes the man God created him to be.

“Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.” – Ephesians 5.25

The Opposite of Zeal

Most Christians are not destroyed by sudden rebellion.

They drift.

A neglected discipline.
An idle hour.
A comfortable routine.
A growing indifference.

Little by little, zeal cools. Scripture warns us far more often about complacency than persecution.

Comfort has lulled more believers to sleep than opposition ever has.

God made us for purposeful work, disciplined living, and wholehearted devotion.

The battle for faithfulness is often won or lost in ordinary moments – in the small disciplines, daily duties, and unseen choices that shape our lives.

The opposite of zeal is not heresy.

It is indifference.

“Be doers of the word, and not hearers only.” – James 1.22

The Paradox of Freedom

Our culture tells us that freedom is found in autonomy.

Do what you want.
Be your own authority.
Answer to no one but yourself.

But Scripture teaches the exact opposite.

When people rebel against God, they do not become free. They simply exchange one master for another.

Sin always promises liberty.

Yet sin is a tyrant.

It enslaves.
It controls.
It diminishes.

The great paradox of the Christian life is that surrender to God produces freedom.

When we submit to Christ, we do not become less human. We become more fully what God intended us to be.

Every heart serves a master.

The question is not whether you will serve.

The question is whether your master enslaves or liberates.

“If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” – John 8.36

Spiritual drift is rarely a sudden decision.

Spiritual drift is rarely a sudden decision. It is usually a gradual neglect.

A neglected Bible becomes an occasional Bible.

An occasional prayer becomes a hurried prayer.

A hurried prayer becomes no prayer at all.
Worship becomes optional.

Convictions become preferences.
Sin becomes tolerated.

And before long, a person finds himself farther from God than he ever intended to be.

That is why Hebrews warns: “We must pay much closer attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it.” (Hebrews 2.1)

No sailor drifts toward the harbor. Drift always carries us away from our destination.

The Christian life requires intentionality. Not because God is reluctant to keep His people, but because God uses ordinary means – His Word, prayer, fellowship, worship, and obedience – to keep us close to Himself.

If you feel distant from the Lord today, don’t wait for a dramatic spiritual experience.

Open your Bible.

Pray.

Gather with God’s people.

Take the next step of obedience.

The way back is often found in the simple things we first neglected.

Guarding the Unity of the Church

“…eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” – Ephesians 4:3

People leave churches for different reasons. Sometimes that happens in a healthy and God-honoring way. At other times, it does not. Most of the time, people do not leave all at once. They drift. Little by little, influences and opportunities begin to pull them away from the life and unity of the church.

Scripture calls us to think carefully about the nature of the church. God has not designed His people to live in isolation, nor to create parallel or competing expressions of church life. He gathers His people into visible, accountable communities that are shepherded by recognized leaders, shaped by His Word, and marked by unity.

Because of that, we should be thoughtful when invitations or opportunities arise, especially those that exist outside the life and accountability of a local church, or that begin to function as a parallel influence on our direction, doctrine, or spiritual growth. This can take many forms: independent gatherings, loosely connected Bible studies, online voices that begin to shape our thinking, or groups that function without clear shepherding or accountability.

Not every invitation is helpful. And not every gathering is wise to join.

Wisdom asks simple questions:
– Is this drawing me closer to the life of my church, or subtly away from it?
– Is this reinforcing the teaching and leadership God has placed over me or competing with it?
– Is this strengthening unity or introducing confusion?

Christ loves His church. He gave Himself for her. And the unity He creates is not maintained by accident, it is guarded through conviction, clarity, and a faithful commitment to the church He died for.

Guard the unity Christ has given by remaining faithfully committed to a biblical church, and by being wise and careful when that commitment is challenged or changed.

The Church Christ Died For

“…Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her.” – Ephesians 5.25b

The church is not merely a building we attend or a gathering we observe. Scripture tells us it is something Christ loved so deeply that He gave Himself up for her. He shed His blood for the church.

That truth should shape how we think about the church, how we speak about her, and how we participate in her life.

Charles Spurgeon once warned that while the church is not perfect, it is dangerous to take pleasure in pointing out her flaws. Christ sees every weakness in His church far more clearly than we ever could and yet He loves her still. He covers her with His love and cleanses her by His blood.

Which means when we criticize the church carelessly, withdraw from her casually, or treat her as optional, we are treating lightly what Christ holds as precious.

Loving the church does not mean pretending she is perfect. It means committing ourselves to her. It means serving, forgiving, worshiping, giving, and growing alongside imperfect people just as Christ has done with us.

If Jesus loved the church enough to give His life for her, then we should love the church enough to give our time, our hearts, and our faithful presence.

Let your love for Christ be seen in your love for His church this Sunday.