Do you have “too much to do?” Are there “not enough hours in the day?” As a working
mom, I find that thought in my mind far too often. “A mother’s work is never done.” I
encourage you—today—moms, daughters, students, teachers, workers, managers,
homemakers, business leaders, all of you, take a moment. Not a moment for yourself in
“self-care.” It cannot be a self-focused intent, but rather take a moment to find Jesus.
Reorient your heart to the reality that the almighty, all-fulfilling God is available. He is
present. He is willing. He is reigning and ruling, even now. Turn off your phone. Set
down the dish. Close the laptop. Listen.
Be still.
Listen. Your shepherd is speaking. Still your mind. Let the anxieties and worries of today
arise and lift from your heavy heart.
“Come to me.” Jesus is calling. “I am with you. I am for you. I am working.”
Rest your weary soul at Jesus’ feet. Take His yolk upon you. Feel its weight on your
back as you recognize its upward pull, taking your burden from you now, and learn from
him (Matthew 11:29). He is at work, and you are at rest. This is the posture of our souls in the
kingdom of rest. No striving is permitted here. No self-centered achievement or self-
righteous doing is productive in the presence of the Almighty. The fruit of the Lord’s
work begins from a soul at rest, yielded to His ways and His will. God is the one doing
the working. You are doing the waiting.
Have you ever tried to relax a muscle in tension? When a muscle has been tight—in tension, in control—it takes significant time and pressure to cause it to release. Just this morning at the gym, I pressed my tense and aching muscle into a lacrosse ball, letting my weight press me deeper into the pain. Much intentionality had to go into the commanding of my body to relax. The release of those muscles took focus, deep breathing, and great discomfort. To relinquish control, and to yield is difficult. Just the same, in order to steady our minds and surrender control is difficult. Our nature is so prone to the doing, the striving. Our minds are set to their own imperfect way. Even in our very yielding to him, our intentional devotional time, we often allow the chaos to arise within us and distract us once again with the hurry and unrest of this kingdom of noise, as C.S. Lewis coined in The Screwtape Letters. Even in our genuine and helpless coming to the Father, we stumble on the way.
That is OK, child. He knows this and He is still waiting. He is still yearning for you to come. Just come stumbling and stammering on the way. Just come. Come broken and weary and failing. Come expectant. Come eager. Only the humble can enter here into his holy presence. Your ego has no welcome. Lay these things, all your burdens, even your very motives at the door.
Find a sacred, quiet place. Not a place of comfort and bounty, but of solitude and emptiness, a place for Him to fill.
Just as Jesus in Matthew 4 found his way to the desert after his baptism, so we, weak and feeble humans, need isolated time to calibrate our heart to hear our Father’s voice. In the weakness of human form, Jesus modeled his need for time alone with his father in the desolate place. It was only in the stillness and quiet that he drank in the strength to stand against the devil’s schemes that were coming. It was in the desert, in his physical hunger that he found the true food for his weary soul. The slowed moment away from the hurry, distractions, provisions, speed, economy, and accomplishments of everyday life lends itself to opening our eyes to our need for him. It reveals our eternal hunger for his presence, and, then, when we feel that hunger, he brings the feast. Surely, in those 40 days while their Jesus was gone, there were countless people longing for him to tend to their needs. There will always be people vying for your attention, your blessing, your tending (Mark 14:7) But we cannot give what we do not possess.
I am relatively certain if Jesus walked a day in my shoes, the chores and the needs of my family, community, and workplace would not magically diminish. The noise will always be noise. The ease I long for is not found in lightness of load, but in whom I share the burden. Jesus was pressured. He was wanted, hurried, even needed by many good things. He heard the people’s demands and chaos, and considered them with compassion. But he did not allow the busy voices of the world nor his loved ones to rob him of the attention owed only to his father. He left for a time, went to the desert alone, with a single-minded focus; his attention only upward. He hungered for His father and was given a feast.
What urgencies and demands do you need to lay down to find your hunger for your father?
What do you need to fast from for a moment in order to feast on his presence?
What to-do list needs to be set aside incomplete, in order to dwell richly with him?
If our perfect Savior needed this time in the quiet with his father, how much more do we,
broken and incomplete, desperately require his presence?
Go, find your sacred space. Is it in your home? Perhaps it’s on the back porch, in a closet, or on a blanket in the grass. Perhaps you have to drive a few miles to find a water source and a landscape. Or, maybe it is at the table with a cup of coffee for both you and Jesus. In my view, this fall weather lends itself to his presence; the refreshing cool reminds me of the goodness available to me, as I walk with him. A few slow deep breaths, and he is with me. I know he was always there, but finally, my heart accepts this reality. It takes earnest discipline to cast your attention to the Father, to slow your heart to his pace, to walk away from the demands of this world, still your mind, and listen to your father’s voice.
Dear sister, you don’t need seven steps to achieve your goal to find peace during this busy fall season; even if your goal is good: a peaceful home, an efficient business, a generous heart, a productive day, and well-behaved children. You don’t need more time, more money, more friends, and more stuff. It is not even right thinking that you have lacked. Your own reasoning can even prove untrustworthy. Your heavenly father’s presence is the only thing worthy of your trust. His words are always true and always good.
As you ponder, as you commune, as you learn to dwell more deeply with Jesus, breathe him in and allow those inner thoughts to escape you, then breathe him in again. The anxieties, the worries, the replaying of the past and the anxious anticipation of the future—let them rise and then release. If your heart begins to beat faster with anxious thought, imagine yourself laying those anxieties at his feet. Imagine the good shepherd with arms out stretched, leaning into your space and offering relief. His gentle embrace covers you, calms you, and relieves you of your duties. His very nature being close will bring about the warmth, peace, and ease that your heart longs for. He is near and he is kind. You belong here, altogether safe and loved.
It is his presence, his ways, and his perspective that we need. What destructive end will come of a man of limited view? To wrestle alone with your thoughts is as wise as depending on a snail’s perspective in a tidal wave. You need to run for safety. Do you ask the snail? Sure, there is knowledge to consider from an animal that has spent its life on the earth, but even the keenest snail’s view has its limits. Do not trust it. Do not churn on your worries alone. Only an all-seeing one can tell of things to come, give meaning to the things of the past, and provide direction to our steps. Only from above, can we be told where to hide and run for cover in the very present reality. Live attentive to His presence, His movements, and His voice. You can only do this when your soul sits still before him and welcomes Him into His rightful place on the throne.
I am learning that love has a pace. And when I walk too quickly or too hurried, I become thoughtless, gruff, and unloving. What I long for in this season—and in all of life—is an unhurried heart, where his presence is seen, his voice is heard, and his name is honored. But this is only possible, if I first come to him—find rest, listen to his voice, and feast on him.
This is such a great reminder. Thank you so much for sharing.