Rest

Rest•less- |ˈrestləs' | adj. 1. Never resting; unquiet; uneasy; continually moving; as a restless child. 2. Not satisfied to be at rest or in peace; averse or repose to quiet; eager for change; discontented; restless schemers; restless ambition; restless subjects. 3. Deprived of rest or sleep. 4. Passed in unquietness. 5. Not affording/giving rest.

Have you ever tried to put a baby to sleep? It's so obvious when they are sleepy; they have all these tells that they begin to perform when they grow tired, however, despite their obvious signs of needing rest, they don't always want it. So you as the caregiver must pick them up and hold them close. They wiggle and writhe, attempting to break free from the hold they think binds them, thinking they know what they truly want and need. But you know what they need, and so you hold them closer revealing your strong arms. You hold them just close enough, not so as to hurt them- of course not- but for them to feel you and realize that it's better to not fight it. And lo and behold they don't struggle for long, it doesn't take them long before they find that comfort that was waiting for them in your arms and they give into the design laid out for their rest. And those strong arms relax and loosen, and move on to doing what they only ever wanted to do in the first place- comfort.

Today marks the one year anniversary of my leaving Australia. I came back with strict instructions to rest, but not knowing at all how to do so. In my heart I wanted to remember what it was like to have a "No-Worries-Lifestyle" and I wanted to have it again. In my heart I knew that everything was on the line and that I had to rest or risk loosing it all. I was restless, far too restless.

My restlessness started showing its ugly face in Australia, but it was encouraged on many levels. People told me it was "a holy restlessness", "a holy discontent" that lived within me, driving me. But it was a weed, a disease, fueled by a faulty understanding of the character and love of God.

I had this picture of what I thought was the utmost goal; it was a picture of a worn out, tattered, stained, dirty, messed up, old rag, an old rag so worn out and used that it was good for nothing else than to be tossed. And it was my greatest ambition to be like that rag, that I would be so used by the end of my life that I would be fit for nothing else than to go home. It was around the time that I stopped wiggling and writhing, refusing my rest, that I was able to hear the Father say, "That's not how I treat what belongs to Me."

I thought that contentment stemmed from apathy and stillness its kin. I had no concept of how to be a human being because my being was consumed by doing; I was a human doing. And somewhere along that road my value and my worth became tangled up in what I was able to produce. I was a machine in a factory bound to a god of industry, not a friend in a garden serving a God of Love.

What I thought was only going to be a month-long sabbatical has turned into a jubilee year, and I am neither sure nor concerned of when it will end, for I am more content now, on every seen and unseen level, than I have ever been. I am finally at peace.

To get to this point, serious alterations had to be made. First thing I had to do was STOP what I was doing.

In Genesis 2 God makes man, Adam, but Adam had something he wanted, something he felt he needed- a helper. So it says that God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam and that while he slept He took one of his ribs and from that rib God made Adam's helper, Eve. In order for God to give Adam what he wanted, what he needed, Adam had to stop.

At first I didn't think I could afford to stop, but then I had to realize that I couldn't afford not to stop. If I didn't stop, I'd never get the help I needed. I was looking at the immediate present while God was looking at my life and telling me that I would ruin myself if I didn't stop now. We think we can't afford to lose what, in the grand story of our life, is only a few pages or a chapter to stillness and sabbath, but we can't afford to shorten or cheapen our story by making our life a game of endurance.

The next thing I had to do was STOP fighting. I was like a baby fighting off sleep. I had to stop. I had to stop trying to take on responsibilities that weren't mine to take. I had to stop owning social and cultural pressures. I had to stop trying to be productive. I had to stop trying to be useful to God.

The truth is that it wasn't about being useful to God, it never was; not for Him. It was about being.

I had to relearn, indeed I am still learning, what God values and why. And at the end of my strength I find time and time again that it is I whom He values simply because I am. The most supreme and indescribably precious truth anyone could know. A truth I think only can be found and understood by being craddled in His strong arms, feeling Him hold you closer, surrendering and feeling His arms loosen to comfort you- which is all He ever wanted to do in the first place. And the greatest perk to serving a God Who is outside of time, is that it never has to end.

Once we stop fighting we can find the comfort that was waiting in His arms all along and the design that was laid out for our rest and the rest, the rest will follow.

Selah

A year ago today I began a journey of rest. Today is just another page of, what I hope, is a long chapter whose emphasis and power will echo on through all of my remaining gifted pages.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul..." - Psalm 23:1-3

"...In returning and rest you shall be saved; in quietness and in trust shall be your strength." - Isaiah 30:15