The sun is just now on its tiptoes and looking over the horizon. Its ginger hair is streaming up and outward across the sky. So long as the clouds stay away, in a few minutes, its locks will be torrents of shimmering blondes, eventually becoming brilliantly invisible against a crisply blue sky.

Summer is the best. It hijacks my sense of direction. Almost every inclination leads me outside, no matter how hot it might be. The only problem for a guy who simply cannot shake the need—or, as Longfellow described, the desire to be “up and doing”—is to figure out how to best use the time and opportunities available. Although, there’s more to Longfellow’s little psalm. He wrote:

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

Indeed, we must be ready and willing to embrace and use each day’s peculiar opportunities. A lazy life of disinterest is no life at all. Still, we also must be sure to wait. In other words, rest exists in between the doing. One of the busiest men who ever lived, John Lubbock, was a husband, father, banker, archaeologist, politician, writer, vice-chancellor at a university, and likely so much more. Still, he made time to share with the forthcoming generations, “Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.”

I think Lubbock was right. Although, I’m often the last one to take his advice. I know that needs to change.

Taking a brief moment away from typing this note, I just saw a familiar chipmunk outside my office window. A few weeks back, I started calling him Arlo. I don’t know why. He just looks like an Arlo. Anyway, stretching my legs, I moved to the window to watch Arlo skittering here and there and up and down the nearby tree. When I saw what had just happened to him, I was reminded of something.

I’ve mentioned in previous writings that while I don’t watch much TV, Jennifer and I have been taking time in the evenings on occasion to watch nature shows. I think she has officially become one of David Attenborough’s biggest fans. That said, and in full stride with his raspy voice, we’re both learning quite a bit about the natural world. Relative to animals, I’ve noticed something—well, maybe a few things—especially when it comes to the “up and doing” life so often requires.

In the wild, I’ve never seen a lazy animal. I’m also yet to see an animal exhibit self-pity during trouble or make excuses for its unfortunate plight. In fact, it’s always quite the opposite. Their resilience and determination are inspiring. It usually takes a pride of lions to fell a buffalo. There’s a reason for that. Buffalo aren’t quitters.

Arlo, the critter outside my window, is by no means a buffalo. Still, he’s another example somewhat closer to home. He is, right now, working feverishly to gather bits of something from the sidewalk beneath his tree. A moment ago, while I was watching through the window, he was dive-bombed by a swooping bluejay. I don’t know if bluejays catch and eat chipmunks. I know they catch and eat smaller birds. I’ve seen them do it. Either way, the aerial attack certainly had the jittery little furball hopping to attention. He leaped and dodged before scurrying up the tree. Still, the seemingly caffeinated critter is right now back on the ground and at it again. Arlo’s no quitter. Of course, he pauses every few seconds to check his surroundings. Still, he’s not in the tree making excuses. He’s not complaining to his friend Steve, the squirrel in the tree next door, about how everything appears to be against him. Arlo’s tiny. He’s weak. He can be swallowed whole. Still, he’s undeterred. He’s going to do what he came to do. If trouble arrives, he’ll deal with it accordingly. Until then, steady as he goes.

I’m rooting for you, Arlo, so long as you don’t find your way into my office and chew through any of my books.

Watching this through the Gospel’s lens, I suppose part of this morning’s outing is to say that while life is a balance between action and rest, both bring opportunities for Godly reflection. Doing what I’m doing here at the computer is not necessarily rest. It requires my brain to be up and doing. And yet, it is a laborious opportunity to reflect Christ to others. Taking a minute to rest and watch Arlo was reflective, too. His unwavering determination was a reminder that no matter how small or vulnerable anyone may be, no matter the troubles that come, I can run life’s race of work and rest with confidence (1 Corinthians 9:24-27), committing each of my days to the Lord knowing that He will care for me according to His good and gracious will (Proverbs 16:3).

God bless and keep you in the forthcoming day. I pray it affords you time to ponder the Lord’s love, no matter what you may be up and doing.