Bringing Faith to Life
Posts tagged rest
Invited to Rest
0The lake is glorious. Restful, peaceful, serene. It doesn’t shout, “Come, play with me!” It doesn’t tease, “Lookie what I’m doing.” It doesn’t tempt with rowdy revelers splashing and sailing and fishing. Well, there are quite a few fishing.
No, the Lake at Junaluska just is. It is rest. It is peace. It is serene. It is not a place to get things done. I realized this as I set up my computer facing a window overlooking the lake, and sighed. Ah, now THAT is a view.
Now, don’t get me wrong. It didn’t distract me. More, it called to me. “You are here. Come be with me.”
I had come to spend the week at the lake, catching up on all the things I hadn’t gotten done in the middle of my busy life. The things that needed reading, needed writing, needed sorting, needed attending to, things that I just hadn’t found time for. Now, I had all week for them, but the the Lake said, “Come be with me.” And that invitation is strong.
I had come to be alone, and found solitude.
I had come for quiet, and found silence.
I had come for refuge, and found welcome.
What I didn’t find was space to organize my disheveled self. Rather, there were sights and sounds to be shared. Things to be remembered and recorded. There was activity to be investigated and experienced. There were people to visit with, dogs to pat, birds to listen to, storms to respect and, of course, the Golden Hour to photograph.
But what were any of these things without someone with whom to share?
We are communal beings. In spite of my ready angst about the person too loud at the next table, solo is not a natural state for me. “I just need to tell you, show you, share…” is the constant state of my being. Somehow, the solitary experience is incomplete for me. It vanishes with no one else to know it. Did I really see that? Hear that? Feel that? My testimony alone cannot confirm. I need companionship. Someone to listen, reflect, and appreciate with me the wonders of the world before me and their impact on the world within me.
I guess I’m just not cut from monastic cloth. After but a few hours, I am longing for someone, something, somewhere. My journals are but a meager substitute. It’s the Lake’s fault. It bids be come and walk and talk awhile. Perhaps I am the only one who hears, but I expect not, as the crowds on its pathways testify to its attraction for so many others. It is a wonderful conversational companion.
Sure, stop and rest a bit, the Lake says. But don’t bring what you haven’t gotten done here expecting me to help you do it. I am for reflection, you to yourself. Depart, knowing better what you came for and what you go with. The world needs you back. I send you.
I came to the Lake at its invitation of rest, but I brought work with me instead. On my last day to spend in its embrace, it speaks softly. What you need is who I am.
Go now, and I go with you.
Can we hurry patiently?
1Patience is an ever present alternative to the mind’s endemic restlessness and impatience. Scratch the surface of impatience and what you will find lying beneath it, subtly or not so subtly, is anger. It’s the strong energy of not wanting things to be the way they are and blaming someone (often yourself) or some thing for it. This doesn’t mean you can’t hurry when you have to. It is possible even to hurry patiently, mindfully, moving fast because you have chosen to. ~ Jon Kabat-Zinn
Source:”Wherever You Go There You Are”
Just be patient, we say.
Wait your turn, we admonish.
Don’t be in such a hurry, we caution.
But how much time do we really have? Isn’t it always ticking down? Shouldn’t we move with a bit more urgency?
Or should we sit back with assurance? All will be well if we let it. No rush. Everything turns out in the end. If we’re patient.
“Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” ~ Matthew 11: 29-30
But rest isn’t a place we land accidentally. (Oh, look at that! I was resting and I didn’t even know it!… Don’t think so.)
Nor is rest a place we can run to. (Chest heaving from outracing her pursuer, she rested comfortably and drifted off to sleep. …Not!)
Rest is a condition. It’s a place we land when we adopt patience, whether by force of circumstance or by force of will. It’s a choice, not a giving in but a giving up of our own concerns for things in favor of a greater thing.
Rest is a state of being. We don’t just settle into it but we decide to employ it. It’s a weapon in our arsenal. A tool at our disposal. But first…
“Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” ~ Matthew 11:28
Let us hurry to patience. Rest waits for us there.
God’s up to something
0Calm, peaceful, still, ever.
How can anyone tire of this view?
That goes on forever,
Forgives all
Welcomes all
Receives all.
You are there.
Out my bedroom window
My backyard,
My puppies’ playground,
Sheltered and safe.
***
Wait! What was that?
Who do you think you are,
Forcing your way in like that?
Painting my hallway
reds and yellows,
oranges and purples.
Can’t you see I’m resting here?
Well, maybe one little peek,
Just a crack in the door
To see who’s calling.
That’s polite, isn’t it.
Oh my, look at you!
Won’t you come in?
Have some coffee.
Sit and chat a bit,
Tell me what you see
From there.
where’d you go?
I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? ~ Isaiah 43:19
Resting Place
0Work hard, and never let up, so when it comes to you, you deserve it.
It’s the mantra.
It’s the message.
It’s how we raise our children and ignite our workforce and justify promotion and pay.
But Christ says, “No really. I want you to have this.”
And you look out upon this and it’s what you have always wanted, even though you have never wanted for anything.
Who would turn down a gift like this?
Rest in me, Love.
I have come to prepare a place for you.
Here.
Vocation, not vacation
0I’ve noticed that the world doesn’t take this week off. I mean, if you don’t pick up and travel to some location far away, life finds you. And it finds you doing what you do the other 51 weeks of the year. I’m not sure we know how to do rest anymore.
I was so looking forward to it – a week of Sundays with no demands. None of the regularly scheduled items. No deadlines. No meetings. No classes. No obligatory anything. All was left open. But that’s not enough. Because things wander in, and before you know it you’re more full with things to be done than you were when your appointment book reigned supreme. Unless we “take our rest,” we are restless, and the world’s ways have a very quick solution to that problem.
This week, known as Holy Week to those in the Christian faith, is the holiest week of the year. We are meant to set it aside, the culmination of a season of Lent which has prepared us for just this time. The week following Palm Sunday: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Easter Sunday. What a package deal: 3 for the price of One, all on sale this week at a church near you!
That sounds just plain exhausting. Better to go on vacation to take our mind off it all. But this year, we haven’t. I’m here and I must decide what this week will be for me. For my faith. For my Lord. For my family, friends, community and world. Because that is why I am here.
What do I suffer so that someone else might be healed? It’s a simple question, with no simple answer. We all have to answer it for ourselves. The key for me is trusting that there is an answer. There is an intention behind what I’m meant to do, and it’s bigger – so much bigger – than me.
A friend just posted this on Facebook: 
A week of palindromes. The dates this week will be the same read backwards and forwards. Were you to list these numbers, there would be no way of telling whether your started at the beginning or the end. The last would be first and the first would be last, and we couldn’t tell which was which. Cool, huh?
Funny that this is true of Holy week. The week where the greatest reversal of all time is celebrated. The week that death itself was defeated and life eternal took its place. Impossible to grasp, really. Yet, what I keep finding (and hearing from others when they find) is that when God’s solution in a circumstance or a question or a hardship or a decision is made plain, it makes perfect sense. “Of course. I should have seen that all along!” It’s so simple.
So, I sit with my week that isn’t quite what I had planned, and the things set before me. Kids who are hurt, injured, recovering and the parents and coaches who long for them to be well. I see the hardship that desperately needs healing, and I am in awe that He would entrust these to me. But God, this week? It was supposed to be our quiet week, our Sabbath time, our rest. We were going to get to those old projects, really wrap up the manuscript, tidy up those articles I have been meaning to submit, and clean out those closets. It’s spring after all!!
Wait. There’s no quiet there. The spring break holiday is no respecter of pain and suffering; they get no vacation, no break, no respite until healing comes. Health care workers are on the job, even on holidays, even on weekends, even on Easter. Perhaps this week, above all weeks, is meant to be dedicated to making all things well.
Jesus didn’t take a week off. Especially not this one. How simple.
Doesn’t completing a project feel good?
0- Fill in the blank
- Complete the sentence
- Close the loop
- Finish that song!
We humans have a need to finish what we started. Almost as if we’re designed that way. Why does it seem like we’re always spinning our wheels? On the go. No rest for the weary. We get chastised for doing too much, being too busy, moving too fast. How can we possibly rest?
Oswald Chambers (in My Utmost for His Highest) writes… “Wherever Jesus comes He establishes rest – the rest of the completion of activity in our lives that is never aware of itself.”
Is that the rest God has in mind? His rest? The rest we feel when a project is accomplished, a job completed, a project is done, an item is checked off our to-do list?
Maybe that’s why breaking big projects into manageable chunks, just like cutting my chicken breast into bite size pieces, helps me out. I’m nourished as I consume each portion, and by its provision, I embark on the next. Each completion rests and restores me.
Don’t tell me to stop and rest. There is rest for me at this finish line. I’ll take a deep breath, give a big thanks and then…start again. Refreshed.
What dogs know
0Dogs circle and circle.
slowing,
sinking lower and lower,
centering,
until they find their perfect place.
Rest.
Could dogs be trying to teach us something?
Does rest really work?
0So, what sells you the car? the salesman or the test drive? Oh, I’ll take a look at the options available. I’ll keep an eye on the price tag. And I’m not above opting for the color I like. But when it comes right down to where I will invest my hard earned cash, I have to try it out and see if it works. For my needs.
That makes sense, right? Work it out. Letting it rest or sleeping on the decision isn’t…active enough. I think that may be why I find rest so unappealing. Because, on the outside, it looks like a very ineffective strategy. Why rest when there is so much to be done?
I know that God commanded us to rest in Him on the Sabbath. In fact, he was quite explicit and gave plenty of examples:
“Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all our work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work, neither you, nor your son or daughter, nor your male or female servant, nor your animals, nor any foreigner residing in your towns. For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day. Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy. ~ Exodus 20:8-11
But did God really anticipate the 21st century when He said that? All the demands, the opportunities, the pace. He must have meant it for the Hebrews who really needed it. He was all about the rules back then. But today? Resting is so…old fashioned. It seems so…regulatory. Not at all restful. And really, not compelling.
I love Elizabeth Canham’s honesty about this: (Heart Whispers: Benedictine Wisdom for Today, pg 103):
“Foundational to human wholeness is the model of the Creator who rested on the seventh day from every work. The Hebrew Scriptures are filled with references to honoring the Sabbath. However, keeping the Sabbath itself does not cause the Hebrews to enter God’s rest any more than my punctilious “no sewing on Sunday” and other taboos in my youth enabled me to experience the gift of rest. Why? Because faith is lacking; stopping becomes a duty severed from relationship with God.”
That’s it. Being commanded to rest makes it feel like a duty. I can force myself to rest but that’s not restful. In fact it’s downright de-energizing. I don’t think that’s why God prescribed it.
A funny thing happens, though, when I take God’s advice and embrace rest. When I actually take it for a test drive to see how it runs. Not a month’s vacation at a sunny resort or even a sleep until noon kind of rest. More of a working restfulness into the other plans I have. A sort of rotating rest into the starting pitchers line up. The time off leaves me amazed at how strong I am when I re-engage with the day’s activities.
It’s totally counter-intuitive: rest makes me stronger. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t tried it. Not in a rule-bound way, but an obedient, you-probably-know-best kind of way. Coupled with God patiently waiting for me to work it out myself, the way He knows I need to.
But now that I have given it a try, it really makes perfect sense. We need rest to rebuild. This isn’t just philosophy talk. It’s science. Working (and working out) breaks us down. It stresses bones and muscles and joints causing micro-damage. Resting allows recovery. Literally, the time off to eat, drink, sleep, and socialize is when we rebuild. The weakened places are made stronger. Even our growth hormone secretion peaks while we’re sleeping. We’re made to rebuild while we rest. No wonder it works.
And that’s the funny thing about God-speak. Sometimes, on the face of it, it doesn’t seem to make sense. But when I look in the rear view mirror at how it worked out, it is perfectly clear. Should have been obvious to me the whole time.
No wonder God said, honor the Sabbath. It works. It just seems so unorthodox.
It would have gone so much better for me if I had just heeded the commandment with a willing heart. But no, I had to do it the hard way.
Tomorrow’s post, sneak preview: “A thing at rest tends to stay at rest…”
Does recreation serve a purpose?
0So many people out there working. They must be, because I don’t see them out and about. Not standing in the driveway talking to their neighbor. Not playing ball with their kid. Not even walking or jogging or biking. It just feels like we are all about the toil. Get up. Get to work. Come home exhausted. Maybe we rest and read the paper or watch the news or a show. But come morning, we get up and do it again. Kind of a treadmill existence, I’m thinking.
Work and rest. Work and rest. There’s a rhythm. And it’s purposeful. We get something done. But it begs the question, what about recreation? Because that’s what most people consider my job. I am in the recreation business.
Oh, I can convince them to exercise because “it’s healthy” or “it’s good for them” or “it will help them lose weight or have more energy or live longer…” or …- well, there are a number of ‘good reasons’ for exercise. I can explain ‘the purpose’ to them. And if there’s a purpose, because we are purpose-driven people, we can justify spending the time.
But what about recreation? What about something whose purpose is not so defined. It’s not exactly rest. It’s not exactly fun. It’s not exactly productive. Does it have a purpose? If not, why bother, right?
Rest-fun-productive…it’s all of these. How do I know?
Well, I am an expert, after all. I was trained in “exercise science.” My masters program, and I’m not making this up, was in the Department of Human Kinetics and Leisure Studies. Yes, ‘Leisure Studies,’ partly because they didn’t know what to do with the recreational programs (like dance and activity classes and sports skill classes) but also, I think, because there is something about ‘leisure’ that is worth applying oneself to studying. In today’s language, we would call it recreation.
Recreation, whether there are winners or losers, whether there is weight lost or miles covered, whether there are lessons learned or improvements made, is good. It provides time and space for the what else. The things that don’t command our workdays. Opportunity to connect with something that wasn’t in the game plan, someone we wouldn’t normally see or hear from, a place or a person who ‘just happens by.’ That person may be us. The ‘us’ that isn’t engaged in the four other things that need doing.
Now, full disclaimer, I am very bad at allowing space for recreating. I’m not that disciplined. I just keep plugging along at the work that is meaningful and purposeful. And I think I’m pretty productive in the slog, until something or someone comes along and insists we “recreate.” Throw a softball, go to a movie, go out for coffee or a lunch.
And a funny thing happens. When I return to the work I was doing I bring so much more to it. More energy. More ideas. More determination. More purpose.
I guess that’s why they call it re-creation. It’s good for you. But more than that, it’s GOOD-ness for you. I imagine it’s God’s approach to interval training. Work/Serve then Rest/Re-create. He’s in charge of it all. Created it for our good and His purposes.
Which I’m pretty sure I will never know if I refuse His offer. I mean, who in his right mind would refuse the invitation of God, “Come on. Let’s re-create you.” I sure feel more creative after I join Him. So, if I’m in the recreation business…I guess that’s a big job. Better get to work!