Read: John 6:1–51; John 4:1–14; John 7:37–39; Revelation 7:9–17; Matthew 11:28–30
We are fixated on rest. Obsessed, even. So much so that our time, our money, and our precious energy is spent trying to find, buy, or create rest in our lives and in our homes. I’m guilty as charged. Rest was this year’s theme and focus for me. I sought out rest in every corner of my living, trying to make it happen so I could stop feeling overwhelmed. What I’ve realized is that those of us longing for rest aren’t simply longing for a break from the daily grind. We aren’t just hoping to be released from the stresses and burdens we’ve been carrying.
We are panting for Living Water, feeling pangs of hunger for the Bread of Life, and deeply yearning for a yoke that won’t continue to beat us and break us down.
The hunger raging within us—this unquenched thirst—is for an everlasting rest; one that will somehow seep into our marrow and endure far longer than what we’ve yet to encounter. Our aching need for real rest causes us to seek out any and every thing that might be able to give us what we think we’re after. But the truth is that our responsibilities aren’t going away. Being busy is in part, a choice, and time itself isn’t going to slow—no matter how many things we bring into our lives to try and convince ourselves it has. So where does that leave us?
In this life, we find ourselves in a place of longing. Safety, comfort, healthy relationships, coffee, food, sleep—we yearn for it all. Longing for those things isn’t inherently bad. However, the fulfillment of those things will never truly satisfy our heart’s cry. Too often, our energy, time, and money is misplaced as we begin to believe creating a feeling of rest will dampen the overwhelm running rampant inside us. In contrast to this race for empty peace, the kind of rest we’re after won’t show up without a weary soul first turning to God wholeheartedly, day in and day out. Without that turning, we will be left standing in mostly the same place with a pseudo-rest that leaves us unnerved, unsure, and still longing. I think we understand this, though. We know we need a rest that restores. The need for something to fill these aching hearts with peace and purpose has enveloped the waking world since the end of Eden. We know it so truthfully, we’re willing to turn to nearly anything that promises to give us even a moment of rest—anything, so long as the feeling of being a sailboat bobbing along life’s blue, unsettled sea, carried along with no place to land disappears. But the promise of anything that isn’t God’s shalom—peace—is an empty, vain promise. It holds nothing for us.
Rest Isn’t as Elusive as We Make It
Read: Psalm 116; Hebrews 3 & 4; Mark 6:30–51
The thing is, when our time, money, and energy is spent chasing all the wrong things and expecting them to give us rest and peace and joy, it’s not surprising that we end up feeling empty and numb and lifeless, with an even deeper yearning for rest. It’s a race with no finish line. It’s endlessly exhausting and wearying, down to the very fiber of our souls. Our being truly cannot handle it, which is why overwhelm and separation begin to creep in. All the while we’re wondering, What on earth am I missing? Well, we are missing everything and we are missing nothing. God’s rest doesn’t have to be as elusive as it seems. It’s within reach. Better yet, it has been within us all along. God has been and will always be our rest and peace. Therefore, rest is ours, if only we would turn and begin to grasp what that really means for our lives.
Jesus often urged his apostles to find rest for themselves; to seek it out and pursue it. He lived that calling out himself as well. In Mark 6, we can see this unfold:
“The apostles returned to Jesus and told him all that they had done and taught. And he said to them, ‘Come away by yourselves to a desolate place and rest a while. For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a desolate place by themselves.”
Mark 6:30–32
As the story continues, none of them get to rest for a long, long while. But then, we suddenly see Jesus purposefully and almost forcefully creating a space for rest—not only for himself, but for the disciples as well, though they found themselves literally in a boat being tossed about by the wind and waves, unable to rest (see verses 45–48).
By going away alone, Jesus made ample space and opportunity for communing with God. He lived out a beautiful practice of seeking rest in the presence of his Father. He prayed. He dwelt. He responded to what God was leading him to do. We need to have a habit of pursuing rest, too. Jesus was very plainly purposeful in this, almost as if he knew it was totally up to him to show his fellow humankind once and for all what it looks like to humbly go to the Father persistently. Even more than this, Jesus seemed to understand what such a rest meant for his living. He carried those moments of shalom with him wherever he went. The fruit of his rest seeped out of him with every interaction, word, and relationship we read.1 This is what the world needs! A people whose communion with God shows in everything they say, do, and create. Jesus’ time with God wasn’t resting merely to recoup energy and a bit of sanity. It was a rest that realigned his very being and soul to live and breathe in a posture of dwelling within God’s presence (Psalm 116:5–9).
Rest for Our Souls Comes from God Alone
Read: Matthew 11:28–30; John 10:1–30; Psalm 62, 63
God gives us rest. He holds in his hand true life and welcomes us into it. Our joy and prize is to step into such a blessed calling. We are his sheep. In John 10:14 Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me.” God is our Shepherd and protector, but seeking him, spending time in his presence, and recognizing him for who he is what matters. Sheep rest in the presence of the shepherd. Without the shepherd, we, like sheep, are prone to wandering off, unaware we are wandering and unaware of the dangers in doing so. We are likely to begin chasing illusions of bigger, better, greener pastures. Imagine for a moment a lone sheep that has gone off into the trees as dusk begins to descend upon the land. Suddenly, as the last fading light empties from the sky, the lone sheep no longer sees the shepherd; no longer hears the faint sounds of the flock. What’s going on for the little sheep in that moment? The sheep will become greatly unsettled and unsure, at a loss for where to turn or what it will take to return to the restful existence the sheep knew. The sheep will feel the ache of what has been lost. Then, we can assume that the sheep will by whatever means necessary try to regain the company of the flock and, more importantly, the presence of the shepherd. Remember that Jesus tells us he’s our shepherd; be reminded that God is willing and able to lead. Every single day, God waits for us.
We, like David in Psalm 63, are sure to find ourselves in a wilderness; and like David, we too need to cry out:
“O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and glory. Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you. So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands. My soul will be satisfied…for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.”
Psalm 63:1–8
In this psalm and so many others, the writer recognizes:
- God for who he is
- God for what he gives
- His own lifelong, desperate need for God
The rest we seek and the rest we need comes solely from God. So when we get caught up in the false promises of other things, in façades of rest, or in the life of foregoing rest altogether, we’re essentially lost—not lost to God and not lost forever, but lost in so many other ways. We become lost to ourselves, lost in and numb to our very lives, lost to the joys of our salvation with each and every new and blessed day, lost to deep and godly relationships with others. Lost, because we’ve stepped away from the earnest pursuit of communing with our God. We become like the sheep Isaiah wrote about long ago: astray (Isaiah 53:6). When astray, it makes sense that one would long deeply to be restored to the pastures near the shepherd so that rest may be found in his presence one more.
To answer Jesus’ call to rest is to say yes to that which is truly life. It’s to accept that no, we won’t always get to it when it is most needed (refer back to the story in Mark 6), and no, we might not always get it right. But still yet, we answer yes. We lean in. We endeavor to pursue such a rest—a rest that endures, gives joy and life, and reminds us of our salvation and rescue. We, the redeemed ones, endeavor to encounter Jesus in a very real way with our days, so that we can enter this life and this world and reveal him, be like him, and make known his saving grace to the rest of his created ones. It’s a great and difficult calling. It’s no wonder we struggle and it is no surprise that we wonder, What in the world are we missing? How come we cannot seem to get it right, no matter how hard we try?
Rest That Endures Is Ours for the Taking, If We Are Willing
Read: Isaiah 30:15–21; Jeremiah 6:16
Being isolated and alone isn’t rest. Being free from all cares isn’t rest. We carry our rest within us as we seek and savor the presence of God. True rest is ours—if we are willing to enter it and remain in it. Every one of us can all easily fall into thinking that we haven’t the time or ability to rest. We can begin to believe that slowing and resting means we aren’t enough or that we’ve missed something or dropped the weight we have believed God wants us to carry.2 Or, we forget that we need rest. We can even begin to believe that rest is something we have to make happen ourselves—and I’m guilty of this one—for God’s sake (as though we are doing it for him).
It’s not something we make happen or fit into our schedules by some small miracle. Rest is something we enter into; something we earnestly and devotedly pursue. Rest is being in the presence of Someone—a communion that we then carry with us throughout the day for all our days and all our lives. We keep coming back to him, day in and day out. And yes, sometimes we have to fight hard for it. Still yet, we strive to continue in that rest and pursue it with every breath we take. Because why not?
What have we to lose, except our peace, our sanity, our health, ourselves, our very lives?
The hard truth is when we truly place ourselves in God’s rest, we don’t have time to rush around; we lose the opportunity for comparing our lives to everyone else’s; and we make room for those things which will fill us with goodness and life, rather than steal our joy and take away the everyday glory of God (Mark 8:34–37).
Yes, our hearts ache. We will assuredly feel lonely, misguided, and lacking in hope at times, but the longing for rest—our deep, soul-shaking desire for real and true goodness—points and moves us toward Someone. Through even the deepest ache and fiercest hunger for soul rest, we can know that we aren’t mistaken or disillusioned. Rest and peace exist. They aren’t as elusive as we tend to make them. Real rest and peace will only be found in our God alone. He alone holds the vast promises of goodness and peace and rest in his hand and offers them freely to us within his embrace.
It is not in our doing. It is not held in the many things we do in our environment and in our lives to create or fabricate a version of peace and rest which inevitably will not last and will never fulfill or sustain these weary souls. Rest comes fully and in a whirlwind when our hearts and lives are pointing toward God. God’s shalom enters our hearts as we faithfully begin stepping into his presence day after ordinary day, purposefully. I believe that which we long for—that which is truly life (1 Timothy 6:17–19)—will be ours at last, at least as much as it can be on this earth when we lean into God’s presence like we never have before. Leaning into him gives us a rest which we can look for in all the corners of the world but never find. We could look to all the many beautiful things, all the wonderful, good-seeming things of this earth and life, but we won’t find rest. The soul-deep trembling and ache within still won’t be satisfied. Until we quietly, gently, humbly turn to our God, the murmur of the aching heart inside won’t still or soften.
So instead, let your heart’s murmur become something like this: Sweet Jesus, I’m so thankful. I know you’re here with me. Lead me. Have mercy. All those other things pretending to satisfy us never will. We need to earnestly and faithfully shed the things posing as life-giving rest because, as we could have guessed all along, meaning and purpose and rest will at last be found only in God our savior.
Further Study & Application
- Reread some of the passages mentioned here, like Psalm 116 and Isaiah 30. Focus on the themes of who God is and what he gives. Begin to grapple with the magnitude of who he says we are, his. Pray earnestly for your heart to be renewed. Trust God to do what he does and truly let him into your life each day. You might just be amazed at the many ways you begin to recognize his presence in your daily living.
- Think for a little bit about sheep. I don’t know all that much, but from what I can tell they are pretty helpless creatures. They bumble about but remain docile and are very willing to be cared for and led to and fro. Think about how easily we, like sheep, can be led astray into the wilderness by the things of this world and by the influences constantly surrounding us. It’s too easy. So we need to be mindful and careful to remain in God’s rest and shepherding embrace.3 Take heart. Don’t let yourself be led to and fro by just any influence. Lean into God and his shepherding embrace.
- Now read a little more about the stories of Jesus going off alone to pray.4 He often did so early in the morning. I, like many, have found that the early morning is an absolutely lovely time to commune with God. Try it. Again, it’s not always easy. Sometimes our bodies and minds and spirits are weak, but that’s the very reason God needs to be present in every part of this life. Invest the time in pursuing a much-needed, habitual communion with God.
- Finally, for the sake of your quiet soul-longings, make space to dwell in the presence of God in a new way. Reread Psalm 63. Maybe listen to “Rest in You” by All Sons & Daughters or “Only You” by Of the Land. Pray to him and wait for his shalom to begin settling into your heart. It’s a process, so don’t be discouraged. God is faithful and his promises endure.
Footnotes
1 See Matthew 9:18–32; John 8:1–11; John 17.
2 Remember Martha and Mary? See Luke 10:38–42.
3 Isaiah 53:6; 1 Peter 2:25; Hebrews 13:20.
4 Mark 1:35; Matthew 26:36; Luke 5:16; Luke 6:12; Matthew 14:13, 23.
Photo credit: Emilee Carpenter
Kelsie is into a little bit of everything, and it all started with her love for words. Her love of writing was inspired by Ann Voskamp and Anne Lamott and cherishing the words they share. Kelsie is a creator and maker at heart, which is why writing is such a love of hers—especially writing about the Lord and his creation. She also very much enjoys knitting, crocheting, embroidery, macrame, and watercolor. Someday she and her husband would love to have their own little homestead with sheep and chickens and a big, wonderful garden.
