The Wisdom of Rest
My thoughts have gone a thousand different directions in the past several days, and I've often thought about writing. The posts would have been drastically different from one moment to the next, but one common thread has wound through each day lately: rest.
This leave of absence was somewhat unplanned, and at first, unwanted. I was determined to keep working as long as possible, to take hours off here and there for appointments, but to keep up with all of life otherwise--including work. There were a series of things that eventually led me to take a full six weeks off, but now that I am settling into that time, I'm deeply grateful. It's provided me the physical space and time to stop and rest, something I haven't truly done for far too long.
Back a few months ago, as I juggled full time work, full time school, multiple forms of involvement in our church, kids' activities, family events, Micah's schooling and eventual new job, and so many more things, I suddenly realized we had become one of those families who are constantly running from engagement to engagement--that I had become one of those people who is committed to far more than anyone should tackle in a single day. It was already beginning to cost us in the form of less time at home as a family, less time to cook healthy meals, less time to get small things done, and less time to just rest. We started to pull back, to wrap up involvement in certain activities, and to "circle the wagons," as a friend so aptly put it.
That was all before this recent change in my health, but I think it was already laying the groundwork for what was around the corner. Because in that next season, the fatigue and physical symptoms began to define somewhat more insistently what I could and couldn't do. I could muscle through and do almost anything that was required, but I paid an increasingly heavy price for overdoing it. In the past two or three weeks, as my symptoms have progressed, I've begun to weigh each activity. Is this something I need to do? Will I be sorry if I don't? Am I willing to pay the physical price for doing this now? What else will I have to do today, and will I have energy left over for that? Is this important right now?
At first, the questions left me with a deep sense of sadness. How sad that I had to assess each thing I wanted to do, to count the physical cost and weigh it against the other things that needed to be done, to let things go that I would have jumped headlong into a few months ago. But as the hours at home in the past couple of days have stretched on and I've begun to finally rest, the questions sound less and less sad to me, and they sound more and more like wisdom.
I could write pages already about all that this illness has given me. But perhaps most noticeably, this is teaching me the wisdom of rest. I've felt for years like I had to make excuses for rest, for answering "no" when something was asked of me. I couldn't tell you why. Maybe it was duty, or pride, or wanting to be in the center of the action. Maybe it's that the things being asked of me were good things. But as I've been forced into a season where I have no option BUT to rest and say "no," I'm beginning to see that this has always been my right, my choice, maybe even my responsibility.
I've been doing my own little independent study on the word "rest." Last week I stumbled on a devotional by Charles Swindoll in which he talked about the biblical basis for rest. Most commentaries on the topic often refer to the creation story, "On the seventh day, God rested." In the devotional, he asked the question, Why did God need to rest? I've heard so many people in the past explain that it was God's way of setting an example for us, that he wanted to model what it meant to rest from our work. And maybe that's true. But for some reason, the answer in this devotional really stuck with me. It's echoed in my mind for the past few days.
He didn't need to, he chose to.
Maybe God was modeling rest for us, but if he was, I think he was modeling the wisdom of rest. We may or may not have seasons in which that time of rest and recovery are essential. I wouldn't say it's particularly a choice for me in this season. But it was in the last season. And very rarely did I choose rest in that time. We too often fail to recognize that the brave, praiseworthy, admirable, wise thing to do is not to DO at all--it's to rest. It's to clear spaces for ourselves that are just open, free spaces. It's to weigh the activities in light of all of the rest of life and consider whether they really need our attention, whether they're worth the cost. There's no guilt in that. There's no reason for excuses. We--not being God--have a physical need for rest. But we have to choose it.
We should feel free to choose rest--guilt-free, wisdom-filled, productive, life-giving REST. I wish I had learned that sooner, but being in a season in which the lesson has to be learned, I'm grateful. Grateful for the wide open spaces, the breath of fresh air, the freedom to choose rest. I hope you find--I hope you choose!--the same spaces.
This leave of absence was somewhat unplanned, and at first, unwanted. I was determined to keep working as long as possible, to take hours off here and there for appointments, but to keep up with all of life otherwise--including work. There were a series of things that eventually led me to take a full six weeks off, but now that I am settling into that time, I'm deeply grateful. It's provided me the physical space and time to stop and rest, something I haven't truly done for far too long.
Back a few months ago, as I juggled full time work, full time school, multiple forms of involvement in our church, kids' activities, family events, Micah's schooling and eventual new job, and so many more things, I suddenly realized we had become one of those families who are constantly running from engagement to engagement--that I had become one of those people who is committed to far more than anyone should tackle in a single day. It was already beginning to cost us in the form of less time at home as a family, less time to cook healthy meals, less time to get small things done, and less time to just rest. We started to pull back, to wrap up involvement in certain activities, and to "circle the wagons," as a friend so aptly put it.
That was all before this recent change in my health, but I think it was already laying the groundwork for what was around the corner. Because in that next season, the fatigue and physical symptoms began to define somewhat more insistently what I could and couldn't do. I could muscle through and do almost anything that was required, but I paid an increasingly heavy price for overdoing it. In the past two or three weeks, as my symptoms have progressed, I've begun to weigh each activity. Is this something I need to do? Will I be sorry if I don't? Am I willing to pay the physical price for doing this now? What else will I have to do today, and will I have energy left over for that? Is this important right now?
At first, the questions left me with a deep sense of sadness. How sad that I had to assess each thing I wanted to do, to count the physical cost and weigh it against the other things that needed to be done, to let things go that I would have jumped headlong into a few months ago. But as the hours at home in the past couple of days have stretched on and I've begun to finally rest, the questions sound less and less sad to me, and they sound more and more like wisdom.
I could write pages already about all that this illness has given me. But perhaps most noticeably, this is teaching me the wisdom of rest. I've felt for years like I had to make excuses for rest, for answering "no" when something was asked of me. I couldn't tell you why. Maybe it was duty, or pride, or wanting to be in the center of the action. Maybe it's that the things being asked of me were good things. But as I've been forced into a season where I have no option BUT to rest and say "no," I'm beginning to see that this has always been my right, my choice, maybe even my responsibility.
I've been doing my own little independent study on the word "rest." Last week I stumbled on a devotional by Charles Swindoll in which he talked about the biblical basis for rest. Most commentaries on the topic often refer to the creation story, "On the seventh day, God rested." In the devotional, he asked the question, Why did God need to rest? I've heard so many people in the past explain that it was God's way of setting an example for us, that he wanted to model what it meant to rest from our work. And maybe that's true. But for some reason, the answer in this devotional really stuck with me. It's echoed in my mind for the past few days.
He didn't need to, he chose to.
Maybe God was modeling rest for us, but if he was, I think he was modeling the wisdom of rest. We may or may not have seasons in which that time of rest and recovery are essential. I wouldn't say it's particularly a choice for me in this season. But it was in the last season. And very rarely did I choose rest in that time. We too often fail to recognize that the brave, praiseworthy, admirable, wise thing to do is not to DO at all--it's to rest. It's to clear spaces for ourselves that are just open, free spaces. It's to weigh the activities in light of all of the rest of life and consider whether they really need our attention, whether they're worth the cost. There's no guilt in that. There's no reason for excuses. We--not being God--have a physical need for rest. But we have to choose it.
We should feel free to choose rest--guilt-free, wisdom-filled, productive, life-giving REST. I wish I had learned that sooner, but being in a season in which the lesson has to be learned, I'm grateful. Grateful for the wide open spaces, the breath of fresh air, the freedom to choose rest. I hope you find--I hope you choose!--the same spaces.
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| (Photo credit: Henry) |
