Hard vs. Easy Rest

Exhausted, I stand. I produce. I emote. I serve. I carry with me worlds.

I am strong, so strong, I know that now.

And strength calls to rest.

In strength, we rest. In wisdom, we rest. In gratitude, we rest. In love, we rest. We rest when we believe, deeply, that we are loved, we are whole, we are strong, we are capable, we are worthy.

Rest is surrender. Rest is learned. Rest is uncomfortable. It is choosing stillness and smallness and putting a stop to our work in a world on steroids. This idea of "hard rest" that I want to discuss, is completely counter-cultural. We don't understand it. We don't see its importance.

We think we rest, but it’s the easy kind. It’s the Netflix rest. It’s the 7 hours of sleep each night rest. It’s the 5-minute newspaper-reading rest. It’s not the difficult kind, the real kind, the reflective, intrusive kind that forces us to face ourselves, to deeply know ourselves, to process the lives we live out daily. No, we flee from the hard rest.

We settle for easy rest; we think it’s enough.

I’m learning, if you have faith or want faith, hard rest is essential. Our souls are desperate, and I think this world is desperate for movements that come from periods of hard rest.

Our faith, our well-being, and others' well-beings cannot be sustained in continual service, continual movement. We must do the hard rest, the rest that requires us to dig and weed and examine and prune and cry and beg and confess and laugh and meditate and scribble and create and break and wrestle.

And so, after my job ends and before I enter into cross-cultural service once again in February, I am choosing to enter into hard rest with intentionality. I need it, desperately. I have forgotten what it is, what it’s been for me, and I’m excited for what it will do in me. This rest for me will include prayer, meditation, yoga, writing, playing music, cooking, reading, creating art, cleaning, donating, and anything and everything that gives me life and freedom. I anticipate it will also include a lot of laughter, tears, and wrestling, as I grieve, reflect on, and anticipate all my past and future work and the weight of the worlds I leave and enter into.

As my anxiety often threatens to eat me alive, these verses continue to be my spiritual water:

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” -Matthew 11:28-30