The Gift of Rest
Some seasons of life are just plain full.
Overflowing, actually. And rarely is there a single thing you can do about it. The responsibilities of the ever-growing “to-do list” seem to take charge and boss you around.
Maybe you’re in one of those seasons right now. A little overwhelmed with a lot going on? I’ve been there too.
Life pulls in every possible direction and the feeling of being stretched is real. You long for space in your schedule. A break to take a deep breath. A rest to refresh your soul because you’re thirsty, and you know you need some quiet to quench your desire for a long, slow drink at the well.
I recall one such season in particular, in the middle of feeling all of the above, when I spotted that brief space in my schedule and I was quick to seize it.
With coffee in one hand and my Bible in the other, I headed to the oasis of my backyard deck where the gentle breeze of the trees, the song of the birds and God’s Word all harmonized together to feed and fill my soul.
As I worshiped and prayed and read words of life that made God feel close again, I knew I’d been given a sacred gift.
Then, God graciously sent an additional gift in those quiet moments—a physical gift—when suddenly, out from the trees emerged a baby deer.
I can count on one hand how many times I've seen a deer in our backyard. And it was just like God to choose that afternoon to send one.
As the fawn quietly and cautiously nibbled on the foliage of our ravine, I couldn’t help but think of the words of Psalm 42:1, 2 that say,
“As a deer longs for flowing streams,
So I long for you, God.
I thirst for God, the living God.
When can I come and appear before God?”
That day, as I sat settled into my chair, I was feeling much like the deer in David’s psalm—longing for flowing streams and thirsting for God.
I knew there was only one way I would fulfill that longing and satisfy that thirst.
I would have to stop to rest.
Rest doesn’t chase us. Doesn’t force itself upon us. We have to choose it. We have to create the pause, insert the comma into the lines of our busy lives, and carve out time to cease our work and our striving.
Rest is Biblical. Its theme is prevalent throughout the pages of Scripture.
The land was to be given rest. People were instructed to rest. Even God rested, and He desires that we imitate Him.
I love this excerpt from Mark Buchanan’s book, The Rest of God:
“We mimic God in order to remember we’re not God. In fact, that is a good definition of Sabbath: imitating God so that we stop trying to be God. We mirror divine behaviour only to freshly discover our human limitations. Sabbath-keeping involves a recognition of our own weakness and smallness, that we are made from dust, that we hold our treasure in clay jars, and that without proper care, we break.”
Friends, we are fragile. Vulnerable. Psalm 104:29 says, “For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust.” So, He calls us to rest.
Psalm 23:2-3 is a familiar comfort to us:
“He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul.”
For me, these verses impeccably depict what God had in mind for our times of rest.
A physical pause.
Refreshment.
Restoration.
Notice that each of the text’s phrases begins with “He” because God knows what we need. He knows where to escort us—ultimately to Him, the truest source of rest.
Rest, with God as its centre, is an intimate place. It is a place of immersion into divine beauty and love. Here, in beauty and rest, nothing is demanded of me and I am in need of nothing.
It’s a sacred place with flowing streams that quench our thirst for God.
I know it’s easy to get captured by the flow, and carried away by the streams of life but, ultimately, we long for God’s living streams, don’t we?
However, if we want to drink from them, we must stop. We must intentionally choose margin. We must seize the moments—no matter how short or long—to appear before God for refreshment and restoration.
God will meet us both there. And neither of us will regret having gone.