Move without Moving

by Greg Grotewold

Iwas convinced she was violating the Eighth Amendment’s cruel and unusual punishment clause. If this wasn’t the type of torture the nation’s founders were trying to mitigate when drafting this key component of the amendment and adding it to the Bill of Rights, I don’t know what was. Indifferent to my civil liberties as a citizen of this great country, Mrs. Elliot (a fictional name to protect the true identity of the guilty) mercilessly forced me to sit perfectly still for sixty minutes as she day in and day out spewed the central components of proper English composition. What in the world does subject-verb agreement have to do with hunting, fishing, and baseball, the cornerstones of this prepubescent’s life?

Nothing, I concluded with uncompromising resolve and conviction. Absolutely and unequivocally nothing! Any form of outward civil disobedience on my part, however, would have landed me in big trouble both with the principal and my parents. Consequently, mine was a silent resistance. I was able to perfect a posture and a particular rotation of facial expressions that made it appear as if I was listening when in fact I wasn’t. As she spoke her pronoun and preposition propaganda, the façade allowed me to go to my happy place and joyfully run through in my head a myriad of tapes from past baseball games and hunting/fishing trips.

There’s a bit of irony in my so-called righteous indignation as a youth. I spend a considerable amount of time as an adult trying to achieve the very thing Mrs. Elliot was attempting to teach. Avoiding unpleasant but necessary things was a pattern of mine as a kid. Rather than endure and remain engaged, I emotionally escaped only to return once the dust settled. Unfortunately, the pattern carried over into adulthood. As you might gather, this raised (and continues to do so to a degree) all kinds of challenges given the increased gravity of what constitutes as an adult an “unpleasant but necessary” circumstance.

But I’m hopeful. If you believe that the Lord superintends all of life, and if you believe that everything which happens to the blood-bought believer is for their 12 // May 2022

ultimate good, there’s no reason to run. There’s a better way to deal with hard realities. It requires, however, being present. We must wait, hold tight, and stay in the moment. But what does active stillness look like?

While I’m not sure I completely know—as my poor track record proves—I am starting to catch on to a couple of key components. One of them is a daily acknowledgment of my utter dependency upon the Lord. I find the more readily I admit such helplessness, the more readily I surrender to His care. Moving without moving also requires me to lean on, abide in, and cling to Jesus.

When I do these two things—acknowledge and pursue—it tends to reframe how I look at the circumstance. I am more inclined to see God in the midst of the difficulty. This is vital, for it tells me there is purpose in the pain. While I may not know God’s exact aim, recognizing the fact that He has one springs a sense of hope.

If your bent is like mine, I want to encourage you to resist emotionally vacating the next trial you face. Running does absolutely nothing. While the blessing attached to any difficult situation may not take shape in the manner or timing you expect, it will take shape. The Lord is a promise keeper, and He will sovereignly use the trial for His glory and your benefit if you wait for Him with an active stillness.

May our hearts take courage as we move without moving.

About The Author Greg Grotewold lives in Oakdale, MN, with his wife, Sandi, and their two sons, Luke and Eli. He is a deacon in his local church and greatly enjoys serving in this capacity.