I am tired.
And it’s OK.
I used to think that being tired was a sign of weakness.
But now I think it’s a gift. It is the knowledge that it’s time to be still.
Together we can say, the stillness is good—it’s called for, it’s necessary.
I guess it’s why I haven’t been writing much.
Sometimes, things just need to wait.
In ministry we find ourselves invested. Bright lights leading the way.
Like an exploding firework, we are fired up and then drift down.
Loud screams of life fizzle to silence.
We hope, even as we come down from the bright moments.
Hoping our smoldering embers cause no harm in their descent.
Protect our families. Our children. Our friends.
As we land softly in the grass of grace.
Post camp. Post experience. Post “I gave it everything I had in me”.
We retreat. We die to self. We wither not in weakness. We wake up in wonder.
We are not going to lose control.
Nothing has to feel out of control.
Unplug your performance orientation and put your feet up.
Let the comfort of God’s abilities give you peace over your inabilities.
Let the stability of an unchanging ever patient all powerful loving God give you rest.
There will be a season when there is more.
But for now, this is enough.
We’re supposed to rest.
And call it good.
It’s so good.
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Is there something that can wait or be put on hold, in order for you to be able to enter into sacred rest? As I was mentoring Lexus this morning, I heard myself say to her that 100 percent commitment shouldn’t always equal 100 percent engagement. Jesus is our example as he withdrew with a few of his friends, or often by himself, to rest, to pray, to be emptied and then filled again. It’s vital for me. What does rest look like for you?
This article originally appeared here.
