The sounds of silence in the middle of the night. The clock ticking. The house creaking. The wind whistling. The shadows coming to life. A mind racing. A brain active. A guilty conscience screaming.
Something about the middle of the night arouses our minds as we either replay events which unraveled during the day or anticipate events about to unfold in the morning. I’ve been there too many times to count. So have you. Schulz drew from that well, which never seemed to run dry, and I can imagine he wrote many of those strips in the middle of the night.
Charlie Brown lies awake to ponder life’s greatest questions, and “Life” always had an answer for him, though the answer was never quite the answer he was seeking or expecting.
● “Sometimes I lay awake at night and ask, ‘Is life a multiple choice test or is it a true or false test’?’ Then a voice comes to me out of the dark and says, ‘We hate to tell you this, but life is a thousand word essay.’”
● “Sometimes I lay awake at night and ask, ‘Why me’?’ Then a voice comes to me out of the dark and says, ‘Nothing personal. Your name just happened to come up.’”
● “Sometimes I lay awake at night and ask, ‘Where have I gone wrong’?’ Then a voice comes to me out of the dark and says, ‘This is going to take more than one night.’”
The night is prime for our minds to rest, or to arouse our restlessness. The curtain of the night closes in on the day-time drama. With its darkness comes the quiet. It’s peaceful. The crickets in the background are almost the perfect white noise. After a long day of rushing, and meeting scheduled appointments, and dealing with all the headaches of life, we’re given the night for rest. Yet too many of us on too many occasions are unable to embrace the night’s rest. If we can’t sleep because of our biological clocks, I’m not sure what can be done. If we can’t sleep because our mind is still running, maybe there is something we can do.
The Psalmist tells us, “Be still and know that I am God” (Ps. 46:10). For most of us, our days are filled with too much noise. The children are screaming. The TV is active all day. The radio or iPod is constantly playing. No time exists for the quiet, to listen to the “gentle whisper” of God (1 King. 19:12), until our heads finally hit our pillows. By then, we’ve probably shocked our bodies into the moment of silent quietness.
Martin Luther King, Jr. knew something about restless nights. As catalogued in multiple sources, during the height of the Civil Rights Movement, people made death threats. Phone calls in the night warned him to leave Atlanta. The phone rings and as he picks up, the caller hangs up on him. And more than one time he woke up to a cross burning in his front yard. While he did pack up his family and move them out of town, he stayed behind until the threats dissipated. Shaken to the core, he felt like leaving as well. He felt the struggle to hold onto his conviction or to give it all up. But something within him wouldn’t stop. He chose instead to spend many, many hours on his knees in prayer. No, he didn’t get his sleep back, but his worries evaporated and his courage was restored. He was able to move forward with bringing justice and equality to the American system.
When I was a little boy, and was often overcome by sleepless nights, I asked my mom what she did to get to sleep. She told me she talks God. I probed further, “But what if you’ve prayed and still can’t get to sleep?” She smiled and said, “That gives me that much more time to talk to God.”
As an adult, I’ve had more restless nights than I care to admit. Sometimes they arise because with age comes a change in sleep patterns. I don’t sleep like I used to, so I find myself awake when I’d rather be asleep. Sometimes they come because I’m worried far too much about church and family crisis. My family, either by water or by blood, is making life decisions or is rejecting the help I’ve provided in leadership, so I find myself awake when I’d rather be asleep. Sometimes I’m filled with regret, because I’ve chosen words that were cruel or thoughtless or lacked compassion, so I find myself awake reliving that moment the words exited my mouth, when I’d rather be asleep. I either lie awake, and either emotionally beat myself up or try to take my mind off what is worrying me. I get up and read a book, or watch a late night movie on TV.
I need to recall and embrace my mother’s words. When you’ve tried praying, but you’re still wide awake, trying praying some more. And if you’re still awake after you’ve prayed, try praying some more. So in the stillness of those late nights, when you’re overcome by guilt and worry, or just wired and cannot unwind, and you’re asking questions about life and life events, why not just cast your cares on God, because he really does care for you (1 Pet. 5:7).
bonum dolar!
(i.e., Good Grief!)