“Rest. O God, I need rest.”
I’ll give you rest.
“Really?”
You’re tired, overloaded.
“No kidding.”
Come to me.
“Okay.”
Here, put this on.
“Wait a minute--“
It’s mine; try it.
“But this is a …”
Learn from me.
“Learn what?”
Undemanding gentleness and humility.
“But doesn’t this mean more work?”
It is soul-rest.
“I could use that.”
Put in on; I’ll be right next to you.
“But it’s a yoke.”
My burden is light.
“Light?”
I am the Light of the world.
“I see.”
You will.
Matthew 11:28-30
Showing posts with label rest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rest. Show all posts
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Do You Hear It?
Oscar Hammerstein II said the hills were alive with the sound of music. Where I live, that music plays against verdant pastures and brilliantly green hillsides. Angus cow-calf pairs dot the scene like quarter notes on a musical score. Each cow has a calf at her side, and she paces her stride to match its own faltering steps.
The calves are so fresh and new that they shine like onyx in the morning sun, dark against the grass their mothers graze. There is a tenderness in it all, in the grass, in the animals – a moment set against the rush of time when nothing matters but the protection and nurturing of a young life.
I drive through this landscape every morning on my way to school. And in the late afternoon I return on the same road to see long shadows thrown across the pastures by the grazing cattle.
Yesterday it was warmer; the temperature had climbed into the high 60s, and the cows had turned their eyes away from the sun, their backs to the west. As I slowed to watch them, I wondered what there was of God out in that pasture. I knew there was something there, something He would say to me if I paused in my hurry home, and searched for His message.
The cow closest to the fence line along the road stood at an odd angle, sideways to the sunlight. Her shadow stretched wide across the grass, and several feet away lay her resting calf, tucked exactly within the edges of her cool shade, sheltered from the heat of the day.
She knew.
She knew exactly how to stand to shade her calf, and she stayed there until the glare of the sun had passed.
“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty” (Psalm 91:1 NIV).
Our God knows, too. He knows exactly what we need, and He is there to let us rest in the shadow of His comfort.
And if we still our hearts, we may even hear the music of His love around us.
The calves are so fresh and new that they shine like onyx in the morning sun, dark against the grass their mothers graze. There is a tenderness in it all, in the grass, in the animals – a moment set against the rush of time when nothing matters but the protection and nurturing of a young life.
I drive through this landscape every morning on my way to school. And in the late afternoon I return on the same road to see long shadows thrown across the pastures by the grazing cattle.
Yesterday it was warmer; the temperature had climbed into the high 60s, and the cows had turned their eyes away from the sun, their backs to the west. As I slowed to watch them, I wondered what there was of God out in that pasture. I knew there was something there, something He would say to me if I paused in my hurry home, and searched for His message.
The cow closest to the fence line along the road stood at an odd angle, sideways to the sunlight. Her shadow stretched wide across the grass, and several feet away lay her resting calf, tucked exactly within the edges of her cool shade, sheltered from the heat of the day.
She knew.
She knew exactly how to stand to shade her calf, and she stayed there until the glare of the sun had passed.
“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty” (Psalm 91:1 NIV).
Our God knows, too. He knows exactly what we need, and He is there to let us rest in the shadow of His comfort.
And if we still our hearts, we may even hear the music of His love around us.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
When Enough is More Than Enough
“I’m exhausted,” a friend said, collapsing into a chair. She was considering cutting back on some of her activities.
“You can’t do everything,” I offered.
In no way was I preaching to her; I was simply repeating my own personal mantra: I can’t do it all.
The old anti-drug slogan, “Just say no!” is hard for me to apply to a worthy cause. My friend had the same problem. There are so many worthwhile activities that need our participation, not to mention all the work required to keep our homes up and running.
When my children were small, I read a wonderful little booklet titled, Tyranny of the Urgent. I learned that urgent tasks are not the same as important tasks. Urgent tasks may scream at me to be completed, but they are things that I wouldn’t mind having someone else do, like clean house, shampoo the carpet, or wash the car.
But important things are those that I would not let someone else do: read bedtime stories, make brownies for a family picnic, or care for a sick loved one.
The urgent can usually wait; the truly important cannot.
But what about all those important things outside my home that vie for my limited time? How do I choose?
Jesus told the parable of 10 young women who waited for a traditional wedding celebration to begin. They waited all night. Five were prepared with extra oil for their lamps, and five were not. When the call rang out at midnight, all ten got up, and the five without enough oil asked the others to share.
Jesus said the five with extra oil did not share with the others. Gently, but wisely, they said, “No.”
The point of the parable was to be prepared. But I believe the Lord was also trying to show us something about personal boundaries. Sometimes we have to say no rather than use up everything we have and then be caught short.
I believe that applies to our energy, time and emotional strength as well as oil.
Will the world come to a premature end if I don’t attend that workshop? Do I really need to serve on another committee? Will anyone care if my floor isn’t mopped today?
Psalm 16:5, 6 says, “Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; … The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; …”
That portion and those boundary lines denote limits for our blessing and for our good. Life without limits can be dangerous.
So what do we do as Christians who want to do the right thing? Do we give up all our charitable efforts?
Absolutely not.
Instead, we pray about the demands and requests on our time, and ask God what His priorities are for our lives.
After we know for certain, we “just say no” to everything else. The Bible tells us to speak the truth in love. That would include a gentle “no” without impatience or hatefulness.
And finally, we must not let guilt rob us of our rest. The Lord tells us, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matt.11:28).
If you end up with an extra afternoon and “nothing” to do, spend some time outside enjoying the cooler weather and fall sunshine. Go for a walk, or just talk to the Lord, praising him for leading you in your decisions.
And be sure to thank him for helping you to “just say no.”
“You can’t do everything,” I offered.
In no way was I preaching to her; I was simply repeating my own personal mantra: I can’t do it all.
The old anti-drug slogan, “Just say no!” is hard for me to apply to a worthy cause. My friend had the same problem. There are so many worthwhile activities that need our participation, not to mention all the work required to keep our homes up and running.
When my children were small, I read a wonderful little booklet titled, Tyranny of the Urgent. I learned that urgent tasks are not the same as important tasks. Urgent tasks may scream at me to be completed, but they are things that I wouldn’t mind having someone else do, like clean house, shampoo the carpet, or wash the car.
But important things are those that I would not let someone else do: read bedtime stories, make brownies for a family picnic, or care for a sick loved one.
The urgent can usually wait; the truly important cannot.
But what about all those important things outside my home that vie for my limited time? How do I choose?
Jesus told the parable of 10 young women who waited for a traditional wedding celebration to begin. They waited all night. Five were prepared with extra oil for their lamps, and five were not. When the call rang out at midnight, all ten got up, and the five without enough oil asked the others to share.
Jesus said the five with extra oil did not share with the others. Gently, but wisely, they said, “No.”
The point of the parable was to be prepared. But I believe the Lord was also trying to show us something about personal boundaries. Sometimes we have to say no rather than use up everything we have and then be caught short.
I believe that applies to our energy, time and emotional strength as well as oil.
Will the world come to a premature end if I don’t attend that workshop? Do I really need to serve on another committee? Will anyone care if my floor isn’t mopped today?
Psalm 16:5, 6 says, “Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; … The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; …”
That portion and those boundary lines denote limits for our blessing and for our good. Life without limits can be dangerous.
So what do we do as Christians who want to do the right thing? Do we give up all our charitable efforts?
Absolutely not.
Instead, we pray about the demands and requests on our time, and ask God what His priorities are for our lives.
After we know for certain, we “just say no” to everything else. The Bible tells us to speak the truth in love. That would include a gentle “no” without impatience or hatefulness.
And finally, we must not let guilt rob us of our rest. The Lord tells us, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matt.11:28).
If you end up with an extra afternoon and “nothing” to do, spend some time outside enjoying the cooler weather and fall sunshine. Go for a walk, or just talk to the Lord, praising him for leading you in your decisions.
And be sure to thank him for helping you to “just say no.”
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