God is not at rest; God is not rest. God is peace. "Peace" is the absence of movement. "Peace" is absolute movement, compared to which light crawls like a turtle.
We live on a train driven by God. We can jump off the train. Then we will have rest. The rest of death. Eternal rest, lying on the beach, languishing.
It's scary to rush on a train hurtling at unimaginable speed. This is a positive fear, creative, the fear of God.
Sometimes we suddenly see a completely motionless world. This doesn't happen because everything has stopped. This happens in the moments when the world outside the train window finally begins to move at the speed of the Creator.
We would like to drive the train ourselves. To control the passengers and the route. We don't trust God. We think evil comes from an incompetent driver, not from us.
That's where God splits into two and comes as Jesus. He comes not to steer and rule, but to freeze on the Cross.
Peter begs Jesus: "Don't!" Peter isn't worried about Jesus, but about himself. Jesus is his patron. If they kill Jesus, they'll kill Peter too. His dreams, rather selfish and dictatorial, will collapse. "To take up the cross" means to accept life as a train, driven by God, not us. Not to rush to be the engineer. To accept hopelessness. To accept that I'm not the first. Like Jesus—he spoke only of the Father, only for the Father's sake, and He Himself took the nails in His hands and froze on the Cross. And I must freeze. At this moment I die. This death leads to resurrection. Not to disappearance. I disappear when I rush to command. When I stop, God moves me with His Spirit. This is supersonic, superhuman speed, overcoming hatred, inhumanity, discord.
15 March, 2026