Dear Mom Who Refuses To Rest,
I know how it is...
If there is a basket of laundry to be folded..
If there are dishes in the sink...
If emails are waiting in the inbox...
If home projects are half-complete...
If that conversation has not been resolved...
If the decision is still not made...
If more work can be done...you're always drawn to do more of it.
Staying ahead of the game in all areas of your life has become a normal pattern for survival...but you can't but wonder if this is the pace of life your loving Father had in mind when he made the earth to complete one rotation in 24 hours.
You've convinced yourself that resting is a luxury that those who want to succeed simply can't afford...and somewhere between being faithful and being frenetic you've managed to secretly look down on all those around you who seem to take it easy:
Your husband, who finds time for yoga.
That friend, who gets away for the weekend.
Your children, who are blithely unaware of the socks wadded up under the bed.
That family that spends all day at the zoo...
How does everyone else seem to be so carefree when there's so much left to do?!
You become painfully aware as you look at your life:
Cutting corners on rest doesn't get you ahead.
Sure, it feels good to have a clean house (but it takes but an hour for it to be less than perfect.) You feel assured when you've checked everything off your list (but see how there's always one more thing?) You feel satisfied when you've hustled, bustled, maneuvered, and made your mark (but how quickly the target shifts, and you're once again late to the party.)
Dear friend...don't you see? We weren't made for 30 hours a day, when he only gave us 24. We weren't designed for self-sufficiency, when God created us to need a Savior. He made us to savor...not just survive.
If you're tired, it's a good indication that you've neglected rest...and resting in HIM.
This past Saturday afternoon, when the boys and Mr. Simons started talking about the beautiful weather and what a warm and glorious day it would be for heading down to the river, I began to do my Internal Eye-Roll. You know, the one that eats lunch with Stealthy Head-Wagging and Inaudible Sigh of Disappointment? It wasn't that I didn't long for a beautiful walk or leisure time with my family. It's just that I felt the weight of SO MUCH LEFT TO DO.
But then I remembered these words by Jonathan Parnell:
“Stop making bricks—you can stop...
We can put down our tools. We can close our computers. We can forbid those thoughts about that next meeting or those emails waiting for a reply or how the numbers aren’t as high as we’d like. We can stop and trust him who justifies the ungodly. We can trust that when Jesus died in our place on the cross, he died to destroy all the anxieties of our lack, to still our ceaseless striving, to hush the winds of our self-justifying labor, to irrevocably connect us to the abundance of his grace we possess by his work, not ours.”
And so, I did. I listened to the river, chased my boys, held hands with my husband, and joined the guys for a rousing 20 minute investigation of a porcupine they found hovering overhead in a tree. The very family I longed to serve by working harder, longer, more efficiently...was keeping me from missing the forest for the trees. Their sense of adventure helped me to remember that I had one too.
And as we made our way back home as the sun went down, I was again reminded...that resting in the finished work of Christ is not just a positional state of being when we account for our souls, but a relational privilege of being with Him who our souls were meant for.
So, dear friend. Let us learn to love what must be done, faithfully working unto the Lord. But, let us stop laying brick as if our life depended on it...and glorifying the busy that enslaves. Christ has saved us from the captivity of idleness and worthless things, but he has also redeemed us to fruitful laboring IN HIM, that is not in vain. Our every minute is now meaningful because Christ purchased our rest...can you then not rest and rest in Him?
Because of grace,
