Come aside and rest awhile…

On reaching another birthday, I am realizing my physical resilience is not what it was years ago. Two decades ago, as a young minister, I could get up early, stay up late, and do a lot in between with seemingly little physical cost. While we often experience decreasing physical energy as we age, spiritual fatigue is a more subtle danger facing us in our constantly overscheduled world.

We live in an age of constant rush. Advances in technology have made daily tasks easier/faster, but rather than taking more time to rest and engage with friends and family, we have allowed cultural pressures to convince us to add even more busyness to our lives.

There never seem to be enough hours in the day or days in the week to accomplish all of our plans. We constantly bemoan our lack of time, but in reality, we are often choosing to take on more than is healthy for us- both physically and spiritually.

Those walking through addiction recovery understand that the danger of relapse dramatically increases during times of stress- hunger, loneliness, fatigue, shifting schedules, or relationship crises. Just as acute stress can pose dangers, potential pitfalls abound when we continually chase the idol of busyness.

In our constant pressing forward, we invite damage to our health, our relationships, and ultimately, our connection with God.

Blinded by busyness, we often refuse to heed the warning signs of overwork and overstimulation.

If we do not intentionally seek rest, we will unintentionally break down under the constant strain of our schedules.

This truth is not only a pillar of contemporary self-help books, the importance of rest is a principle deeply rooted in Scripture.

While murder and adultery are condemned in the Ten Commandments, weekly rest is commanded (Exodus 20:8-11). This detailed idea of Sabbath as a day of rest looks far different than most of the weekend rituals we practice today.

On the very day God’s Old Testament people were told to abstain from all work, modern believers often attempt to frantically jam more activity into the end of our week.

On Sunday when the New Testament saints gathered for longer periods worship (Acts 20:7), we often rush through our worship (or skip it entirely) in order to pack in baby showers, bridal teas, ball practices, family visits, grocery shopping, and preparations for the upcoming week.

The concept of the “Sunday scaries,” the idea that the anticipation of the coming week’s overwhelming busyness invades our day of rest and overwhelms our peace of mind, is a reality for many today.

Surrounded by our culture of hustle, we each must find ways to rest- even as we live in the midst of such external busyness. This need for grounding calm in a chaotic world is nothing new for believers.

In the midst of trauma and unrest, David strengthened himself in God (1 Sam 23:16). In the midst of persecution and physical danger, God provided sleep and food for Elijah (1 Kgs 19:4-7).

In the gospels, Jesus withdrew and prayed alone with His Father- both as a regular practice (Lk 5:16) and at especially critical moments (Lk 6:12-13). In the midst of a period of exceedingly fruitful ministry that proved overwhelming to the disciples, Jesus invited them to pull back, regroup, and rest (Mk 6:31).

If Moses, David, Elijah, Peter, and even Jesus needed times of rest and renewal, we are foolish to think we can just keep running at full speed without disastrous consequences.

Mature believers must come to recognize the self-deception we embrace whenever we trust our own strength and proceed to pile on more and more busyness wearing ourselves thin with constant activity.

Whenever human ability alone is trusted as the source of spiritual strength, failure is certain.

We must be willing to set our minds on the things of the Spirit (Rom 8:6), and then intentionally seek the rest and renewal that can only come through time spent in God’s presence.

Back to December…

I have never lived in a town of more than a couple of thousand people. 

I like rural life, and while I love to travel to cities and appreciate the conveniences of larger towns, I have chosen to live my life in small, familiar places. 

A little more than a year ago, a major tornado ripped through our little community and left destruction in its wake.

City hall gone.

Fire station gone.

Businesses gone.

Offices gone.

Church buildings gone.

Homes gone.

All gone in a moment.

As deep as the scars of the physical destruction have been, the damage has not all been visible- a breaking took place that has both divided and bonded our community in ways we cannot yet fully understand and may never fully know.

I have been reading Wendell Berry’s fiction as a treat to myself following the end of grad school, and in A Place on Earth, he describes the valley that flooded outside his fictional community of Port William, Kentucky- how the local landmarks were rearranged and erased and how nothing was ever the same- except that it was all still exactly the same.

Small places- maybe all places- are like that. 

Always both foreign and familiar.

Never seeming to change, yet never staying quite the same.

I took a drive to pray, to reflect, to give thanks, and to allow myself to feel the weight that this year especially has brought.

To discern what needs to be remembered and what is better forgotten.

To pause and pray at church graveyards and cemeteries.

To consider what has passed on and what remains behind.

I love the holiday season and the hope of a new and better year ahead, but it was a lovely day to be quiet and still before we leave the old behind and stretch forth to embrace the new.

I am grateful for this life, this pace, and this place.

And the December sunset over Sharon was not a bad nightcap- even if it did happen at 4:45 PM.