Weary and Burdened

I read this last night in The Sacred Romance by Brent Curtis and John Eldredge, and it spoke to where I feel myself to be right now.

“‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest,’ says Jesus. Most of us think of spiritual progress as requiring us to do more, even as our heart cries out to us to lay our burdens down. We renew our efforts at Bible study, Scripture memory, and Christian service, fearing that we will be discovered in our weakness and need… So many of our contemporary churches operate on this same system of guilt. When our people are crying out for communion and rest, we ask them to teach another Sunday school class. When they falter under the load, we admonish them with Scripture on serving others. One wonders what would happen if all activity motivated by this type of guilt were to cease for six months. Much of organized Christianity would collapse even as the Pharisees saw happen to their own religious system” (168-170).

There’s a lot of truth to that. I wonder if many of us (individually and collectively) are simply trying to do too much? We see the struggles of our churches and ministries and we feel a vague sense of guilt about not being able to do all that we believe God has called us to do—from the “little” things like staffing the nursery to the bigger picture of evangelism, discipleship, etc. If it’s true that in many churches 10% of the people do 90% of the work, those 10% can easily burn themselves out trying to keep things going.

If Jesus has promised rest to those who come to Him, why does rest feel like a foreign concept? Why is exhaustion so close at hand? Why does guilt seem to be such a big motivator? Somehow I think we’ve imagined that the Apostle Paul’s description of his ministry is supposed to be ours as well: “by great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger” (2 Corinthians 6:4-5; see also 11:25-29). I don’t know how Paul did it, but I don’t have the physical, mental, or emotional stamina to do even a fraction of what he did.

Today I read this in an article from John Piper:

“These illnesses may come, and we still win. The sickness may come, senility may come, and we still win. It is possible for the unhealthy to win the fight against unbelief because the fight is against lost hope, lost faith, not against lost health… The fight is a fight of faith. It’s not a fight to get out of bed; it’s a fight to rest in God. It’s not a fight to keep all the powers of youth, but to trust in the power of God. The race is run against doubt in God’s goodness and love for us. It’s a fight to stay satisfied in God despite the broken hips and lost sight and failed memory and inexplicable fatigue… The finishing line is crossed in the end not by a burst of human energy, but by collapsing into the arms of God. And by all means, let those of us who have any energy left remember that we are called upon to, as Paul says, ‘encourage the fainthearted, help the weak, be patient with them all’ (1 Thessalonians 5:14).”

So for all of us who feel weary and burdened by ministry and by life, I offer the encouragement that Jesus offered, “Come to Me and rest.” He didn’t say, “Come on, you can do five more tasks today, share the Gospel with one person every day, attend three more church events this week, and be the perfect parent, pastor, and teacher!” Jesus understands weariness. After all, He was the one who fell asleep in a boat in the midst of a storm.

It’s okay that “even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted” (Isaiah 40:30), because “The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary” (40:28). When we collapse into bed tonight, God is still in control. May we find rest in His embrace.

“My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth… He who keeps you will not slumber… The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore” (Psalm 121:2, 3, 8 ESV).

© 2018 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated all images are copyright free from pixabay.com.

Just Rest

I want to share a couple more quotes and thoughts from When God Doesn’t Fix It, by Laura Story. In the long journey of her husband’s health issues she wrote, “It took me several years to realize that it wasn’t a detour; it was the road.” As she reflected on that, she heard God asking, “If I called you to stay how you are right now, will you be content, or will there always be something else you want?” (127-128).

Those are both good points worth considering. I often find myself thinking, “Once that happens, I’ll have a clear path ahead and I’ll know where I’m going,” but the detour keeps curving further away from what I think must be the “real” road. I can’t count the number of times I thought I knew what the future held, only to find my path going somewhere entirely different. (Career planning in high school and college is somewhat of a fruitless endeavor.) Even in smaller decisions I think, “This is just a temporary thing and pretty soon life will get back to normal.” But normal never comes.

So her question is a good one—will I be content with where I am today, or always looking for something to change? The New Testament authors speak of contentment fairly often:

• Hebrews 13:5 - “…Be content with what you have, for He has said, ‘I will never leave you nor forsake you.’”
• 1 Timothy 6:6 - “But godliness with contentment is great gain.”
• Philippians 4:11 - “Not that I am speaking of being in need, for I have learned in whatever situation I am to be content.”
• 2 Corinthians 12:10 - “For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

Contentment is portrayed as peaceful; restful; enjoying the journey because Christ is present. Discontentment robs today of the abundant life and fullness of joy that Jesus promised (John 10:10, 15:11). I would like to say I’m striving for contentment, but I’m pretty sure that’s not how you get it. It’s kind of like seeking sleep—you don’t get it by working really hard, but by relaxing and letting go. (I’m not too good at that either.)

I find there is also a fine line between acceptance and apathy, and one can sometimes lead to the other. It’s okay to say, “God, I don’t much like this, but I trust that You are in control and I’m good with that.” However, it becomes a problem when you say, “This is never going to change and I give up!” That is not an indicator of trusting God but of bitterness and unbelief. In a sermon on Hebrews 4:1-11 John Piper stated,

“Fear the unbelief that will keep you from your promised rest (4:1). Do you see the great lesson here? The Christian life is a life of day by day, hour by hour trust in the promises of God to help us and guide us and take care of us and forgive us and bring us into a future of holiness and joy that will satisfy our hearts infinitely more than if we forsake him and put our trust in ourselves or in the promises of this world.”

My desire as I start the New Year is to find peace in the present moment. I’m not going to turn that into a resolution because that sounds too much like an exercise in futility. At this point, I’m not even sure what this will look like. It may require stopping some things—criticism, cynicism, and daydreaming—and replacing them with worship, prayer, and seeking God’s direction and wisdom. Perhaps a good question to ask is: What road am I looking for—mine or God’s?

“In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety” (Psalm 4:8).

© 2016 Dawn Rutan.