what is rest?
What is rest?
Is it a good night’s sleep? Is it taking a catnap during the day? Is it relaxing with a good book or a favorite TV show? What exactly does Christ mean when he says in Matthew 11, ‘Come to me those who labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest’?
I recently talked to three of my kids about what this means to each of them. Their answers were varied. One said that ‘if I go to Jesus, I will be saved’, another said, ‘my burdens will be taken away’, another said that ‘I will find peace’. I looked at them and then looked at the words and asked these questions: ‘Where does it say in this passage that I will be saved, find peace, or that my burdens will be taken away?’ They looked at me, then looked at the verse and said, ‘oh!, I guess it doesn’t really say what I thought it did’.
It is true that through Jesus we find salvation and it is true that we will receive peace, and it’s even true that he will bear our burdens. But this verse doesn’t say anything about my burdens being taken away, it doesn’t say anything about salvation or peace, but what it does say is that I will find rest if I come to him.
I work hard at what I am called to do. It is also true I am heavy laden–the responsibilities I bear are great. Rest sounds delightful. But how do I ‘come to Him?’. I can’t exactly pop up to heaven for a sit down chat with the Lord. Or travel through time to ancient Israel and meet with him on the shores of Galilee.
No.
Coming to Jesus looks different than that.
It must be a posture of the heart.
It must involve stilling my soul.
It must involve closing my mouth and listening to the voice of the Lord sing his song over me or whisper these encouraging words, ‘I’ve got this, just take the next step, I will catch you if you stumble’.
So I still my soul. I quiet my mind of worries and concerns and anxieties and as I begin to settle into his rest I hear him speak:
‘That’s right, you can do it. Take that step. Oops, you missed the mark and stumbled. That’s ok, just make it right with your son and let’s move on. Good job! You did it! I love you, you’re doing great. I know you’re tired, but I am here, lean on me. Let me carry you for a while. Oh my sweet, you are doing great, let’s sit here and enjoy this vista. Do you see how my breeze flutters the leaves on that maple? They dance! If you look closely you can see their song. Here, rest your head against my chest, can you hear my heart beat? My heart beats with love for you. Let me give you rest.’
And so I take these moments throughout the day. I tune my ear to hear his voice and his voice is ever sweet and kind, even when he corrects he is always kind.
Always gracious.
Always loving.
Always a place of rest. Always.
breathing in grace
I breathe in grace so I can exhale grace.
So often I feel like I am breathing in exhaust fumes from the end or beginning of a long day.
But what if I were to let go? To let go of my pride, my fear, my insecurities, and my plans and were to simply breathe in grace.
To breathe in grace means that my life source is coming not from my agenda or my plans or my hopes or my dreams, but they are coming from God’s agenda, his plans, his hopes, and his dreams. If I were to surrender everything I hold so tightly to and surrender to him and breath in his grace, then it would make sense that I would exhale his grace into every aspect of my life.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Repeat.
God’s grace. I can come boldly to the throne of God to receive mercy and grace.
Hebrews 4:12-16:
For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God’s sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account. Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.
His word is alive. His word is active. His word differentiates between my intentions and my actions. His word helps me to evaluate my motives. Self? or God? Who am I trying to please?
But most importantly, for me, is that even though I know I will screw up, even though I know I will mess up and even though I know I will need forgiveness, I know I will find all that I need at God’s throne of grace.
Imagine. His throne is grace! His son, Jesus, paved the way so that we could come confidently, with boldness in our shame and nakedness, to the very throne of God, and there we receive grace rather than condemnation.
So why do I hide from God? Why do I try and cover up my sins and flaws if he sees me in all my fullness or lack anyway? What if…what if… I simply came and let his mercy and grace flow over me and in me?
I come, weak and wounded, yet confident that I will find the grace that I need. I breathe in grace, hold it in and let it wash over every part of me, then I exhale it’s goodness out on those around me.
Inhale grace.
Exhale grace.
Repeat.
the climb
I feel myself pacing back and forth at the base of what seems to be a mountain to climb. The path that God has me on is leading straight up, but I keep putting off putting one foot in front of the other.
So I find a boulder to sit on and sometimes I look at the climb and sometimes I turn my back and pretend it’s not there. Sometimes I wander to the side of the path looking for an alternative route, but no.
The path I am on leads straight up.
Or so it seems.
I keep waiting for a miracle to happen and the path will level out, but what if I need to walk that climb and the miracle will meet me somewhere between here and there?
What is this climb I am scared to climb? It’s my twelfth year of homeschooling that has me avoiding my reality that the path I am on leads straight to a climb up a hill, a mountain, whatever. Only it’s not a short climb, it actually looks like a long journey, but it’s an incline all the way.
I feel weak and powerless and fearful.
But my God is strong and powerful and faithful.
I hear the voices in my head saying, ‘Are you sure God called you to homeschool?’ ‘You don’t have to do this you know.’ ‘You chose this path so you have no right to complain, suck it up and shut up.’
But my reality is that God did call us to homeschool so questioning that call does a few things for me. It tempts me with disobedience. It fills me with doubt. I spend too much time longing for the time my non-homeschooling (sane) friends have. I become discontent and fail to hear the encouraging words of my God.
What is he whispering? Well, I wish I could say I knew, but I can’t, because I have been sitting with my hands clapped over my ears and saying ‘la, la, la’. (I am an adult, really, truly I am).
But I think I am tired of acting like a three year old. I think. Even if I’m not, the time has come to believe what God has said.
He has said he will never leave me.
He will never forsake me.
He will be my refuge.
He will be my strength.
He is my joy.
Whether I feel any of those things doesn’t change the fact that they are true. It’s also true that I have a tough year of school ahead of me. It will require more time. It will require better time management. It will require consistency. It will require much of me.
But this I know: I don’t go forward in my own strength. I don’t have any strength. But my God does. I am going to throw myself onto him and trust him to take my life and make it much.
It’s time to put those hiking boots one, hitch up my pants, strap on my backpack, grab my Lord’s hand, and take that first step.
And I trust that it will be a step into grace.
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