Praying for Rest

When I was twelve I was on a little parks and rec swim team in my little hometown, and that summer I lived in the water more than out.

My sister and I would get up early, as the summer sun was coming up and peaking into windows, while it was still early enough to be cold on a July morning, and we'd stumble out of the house and over to the pool.

We'd do morning practices and evening practices, and Saturday's we have meets.  It was glorious. Launch, splash, air, water, air, water, air, water.

I loved the rhythms of it, how each stroke made me feel like I was gliding, powerful and strong, a silent dance between me and the water.  It made me feel invincible, leaping out into the air, piercing through the water, and then with a flip of my feet back up and out again.  My favorite stroke was the freestyle.  It was like I could channel all my energy in one force, like a bullet shooting off the edge of the pool.  Mind you I was twelve, but even at twelve, I felt invincible.

It was one of the most refreshing, invigorating feelings, to pace and pace, water splashing around me. It made me happy.

I feel like I'm having this epiphany, where the racing against myself as a twelve year old was completely invigorating and fulfilling, but now, as a 34 year old, trying to 'adult,' it's not so invigorating, and I keep running out of steam.

Instead of flailing through the water at lightning speed, I'm barreling through laundry piles or grocery aisles, or the bedtime routine, holding my breath until I can just stop and sit down.

I'm barreling through work emails, or documents to edit, or problems to solve.  Just the other day I caught my sweet coworker trying to power through the pile on her desk so she wouldn't have it waiting for her on Monday.

We do this, this racing thing.

The season of life has created an especially intense "racing" in me.

It leaves me most days feeling like a rope unraveling, willing myself to hold it all together.  Breath held.  Still moving.

It's August- scratch that, it's October now, oi!- and I've been working this year on discipline and finding rest.  Two things that can often seem impossible for me.

I sat in the back of our little church ten months ago during our New Year's Eve service, as our pastor gently guided us to pray for our upcoming year, and I found myself silently asking for rest.

Asking is not the right word.  Begging.  I was begging.

It was a new prayer for me, and one I was not expecting.

I have prayed for wisdom, guidance, strength, and patience.  I've prayed that God would change my heart, and make it more like His.  I've prayed that God would help me to see things from His perspective rather than mine.  I've prayed all sorts of prayers for all sorts of things, but I've never asked for rest.

You know what?  He answered my prayer.

He did.  (((Like, whoaaaaaaa. Mind blown.))) (Ahem, I mean... not sure why I was surprised, but sheepishly I admit my surprise.)

Anyway, yes, I got to live out a year of answered prayer- in the coolest, and most unexpected ways.

In the beginning, I noticed a tangible refreshment of soul.

About four months in, I thanked God for the refreshment, but wondered aloud if He would provide any physical relief.

Low and behold, He did that too, orchestrating things I couldn't have imagined, with dear friends reaching out and offering to take my kids weekly so I could get to the grocery store, to new preschool schedules, and culminating with my parents moving across state lines and landing eight blocks away from my house.

*Holy hot tears of joy and relief.  He really does know what I need, and he really is making a way for all He has planned for me.*

But it started with listening.

I started with admitting my need for rest, and recognizing that He is the source of rest.

I started intentionally carving out time in the only space I had.  Predawn.

Predawn and I were not friends, but we're getting there.

In the discipline of getting up early - something as foreign and undesirable to me as meat is to a vegetarian, or glitter is to my husband - I am finding rest not in the snooze button but in the words on the pages of my Bible. 

There is something rest-giving about reading the Word.

There is something rest-giving about remembering who is King and who has saved my soul.

This same King led Moses into the wilderness, landed Esther in a palace, and sheltered David as he hid in caves running for his life.  This same King mapped out his plan of salvation from Adam through Isaiah and sent Jesus to save my soul some two thousand years later.

This same King spoke all creation into being, brings streams of water in the desert, and tells mountains to rise and fall.  This same savior said "Come, follow me, and I will forgive your sins and make you new," and I said YES!

I find rest in remembering these truths.  Rest from my anxious thoughts and rest from my mind that most of the time just won't stop.

I find rest in reprioritizing the list and remembering what is most important, and what is really just not.

Honestly though, even beyond all those good, positive thoughts, God is truly giving rest to me.

Like, in my bones, in my muscles, and capillaries, and neurons, physical, tangible renewed and rejuvinated rest.

This verse in Isaiah (40:31) has taken on a whole new meaning for me this year.

...but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

It's a new meaning to me because I'm experiencing it instead of just reading about it.

I'm living it instead of just hoping for it.

The Amplified Bible (AMP) version puts it this way (I love it!):

But those who wait for the Lord [who expect, look for, and hope in Him] Will gain new strength and renew their power; They will lift up their wings [and rise up close to God] like eagles [rising toward the sun]; They will run and not become weary, They will walk and not grow tired.

Did you catch the part about expecting, looking for, and hoping in Him?  

Isn't it ridiculous that we try to find God and rest and sanity and wholeness in all the places except by looking up and getting close to him?  

The Message puts it this way- you have to read it, it's just the best: 

Why would you ever complain, O Jacob, or, whine, Israel, saying, “God has lost track of me. He doesn’t care what happens to me”? Don’t you know anything? Haven’t you been listening? God doesn’t come and go. God lasts. He’s Creator of all you can see or imagine. He doesn’t get tired out, doesn’t pause to catch his breath. And he knows everything, inside and out. He energizes those who get tired, gives fresh strength to dropouts. For even young people tire and drop out, young folk in their prime stumble and fall. But those who wait upon God get fresh strength. They spread their wings and soar like eagles, They run and don’t get tired, they walk and don’t lag behind.

Sweet friend.  Join me in the rest.  Join me in the mission that God has called us on.  Join me in finding sanctuary in the one who has already got it all figured out.

Your life matters and you were put on this earth for a reason.  And it wasn't to live life so on-the-go that exhaustion is your new normal.

I'm not saying I'm never ever tired.  I am.  You will be too.

But I'm resting.  Let's rest in Him.