It's a busy time of year. My body grows weary. The Tylenol, Vitamin C and Echinacea have taken a permanent and prominent place on the kitchen counter. The tears flow with fewer warning signs and greater frequency. Last night, my kids literally had to awaken me from my slumber on the couch to request that I tuck them in. Twice. This season is sprinkled with more emotions than I can keep track of without having a notebook close by. I am weary.
There's that "zone" I tend to get in. The to-do list zone...Santa cupcakes, caramel corn, cookies upon cookies upon cookies. Gift wrapping. Extra particular budget balancing. Plus all the normal laundry and homework and cooking and cleaning. This zone is task oriented. Machine like. It can work to my advantage - when it doesn't take on an unhealthy life of it's own.
Then there's that other zone. The zombie zone. The one that won't allow me to slow down. The one that won't allow me to rest. There's nothing pressing to be accomplished, yet my mind and emotions and spirit continue to whirl with a myriad of things. This zone is not task oriented. There are clearly zero machine-like elements. It is created out of habit and sustained by worry, pride, fear, insecurity and my perceived lack of "permission." Because somehow sitting still isn't OK? Resting my body and mind and emotions and spirit is somehow not being a good steward of my time? It is this zone that is often accompanied by a mentality of "I cannot afford to miss an opportunity to grow or learn or accomplish." But this zone never works to my advantage. In fact, it does quite the opposite.
Tis the season, you say? Well, yes. I suppose. But this is not something unique to the month of December. It is not applicable solely to the hustle and bustle. It's life. If you're on any kind of a journey with purpose, it's just reality. Plain and simple. I think there is a reason my devotions had the following entry slated for December 23, yet I am acutely aware that I need this reminder more often than not.
The journey is too much for you. I Kings 19:7
What did God do with Elijah, His tired servant? He allowed him to sleep and then gave him something good to eat. Elijah had done tremendous work and in his excitement had run "ahead of Ahab all the way to Jezreel" (I Kings 18:46). But the run had been too much for him and had sapped his physical strength, ultimately causing him to become depressed. Just as others in this condition need sleep and want their ailments treated, Elijah's physical requirement needed to be met. There are many wonderful people who end up where Elijah did - "under a juniper tree" (I Kings 19:4)! When this happens, the words of the Master are very soothing: "Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you." In other other words, "I am going to refresh you." Therefore may we never confuse physical weariness with spiritual weakness. (Taken from Streams in the Desert)
I do this. I equate physical weariness with spiritual weakness. I'm afraid if I let on to people that I'm tired that somehow they will think I'm not as close to God as I ought to be. They may think that I'm hiding something when I say that I'm doing OK or putting on a show when I appear to be thriving. And I may even question myself...especially when the strength sapping starts to morph into discouragement. But this does not mean that I'm totally messed up. It means that I'm human. It means that I am being reminded that my physical, emotional and spiritual layers are inseparable. It means that I need to be taken care of. And if God can recognize these truths in Elijah and tend to his needs without judgement, pretty sure He can do the same for me.
Perhaps the Christmas season is leading you to the juniper tree of exhaustion. We can all relate to that, yes? Perhaps your entire year (or longer) has contributed to the journey. Or maybe you just got done with your own version of running to Jezreel. There is no shame in admitting that you need rest. In fact, I think a simply put "I am tired" confession can often be the most spiritually significant thing you can do.
There's a difference between asking yourself if you can rest and asking yourself if you should rest. Your to-do list, schedule and responsibilities will help to answer the first question. This little story about Elijah may help answer the second question.
To you parents that are helping your children walk through some rough stuff...keep up the good work. But don't forget to teach them, by example, how to rest.
To those of you planted firmly in the front-lines of ministry...God will sustain you. But take time to rest.
To those of you walking through significant medical traumas in your own life or the lives of those you love...God sees your tears. And He will give you rest.
To those of you coming out of a year in which you daily wondered if you could hold your head above water...God is faithful. And He wants you to rest.
God will refresh you.
God will refresh me.
So if you're just not sure if you should rest...consider the fact that your uncertainty may be all the reason you need to lean against that tree and allow God to give you something good to eat.
I’m too tired to trust and too tired to pray,
Said one, as the over-taxed strength gave way.
The one conscious thought by my mind possessed,
Is, oh, could I just drop it all and rest.
Will God forgive me, do you suppose,
If I go right to sleep as a baby goes,
Without an asking if I may,
Without every trying to trust and pray?
Will God forgive you? why think, dear heart,
When language to you was an unknown art,
Did a mother deny you needed rest,
Or refuse to pillow your head on her breast?
Did she let you want when you could not ask?
Did she set her child an unequal task?
Or did she cradle you in her arms,
And then guard your slumber against alarms?
Ah, how quick was her mother love to see,
The unconscious yearnings of infancy.
When you’ve grown too tired to trust and pray,
When over-wrought nature has quite given way:
Then just drop it all, and give up to rest,
As you used to do on a mother’s breast,
He knows all about it—the dear Lord knows,
So just go to sleep as a baby goes;
Without even asking if you may,
God knows when His child is too tired to pray.
He judges not solely by uttered prayer,
He knows when the yearnings of love are there.
He knows you do pray, He knows you do trust,
And He knows, too, the limits of poor, weak dust.
Oh, the wonderful sympathy of Christ,
For His chosen ones in that midnight tryst,
When He bade them sleep and take their rest,
While on Him the guilt of the whole world pressed—
You’ve given your life up to Him to keep,
Then don’t be afraid to go right to sleep.
By Ella Conrad Cowherd
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