Get Some Rest…

“…Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest…” (Mark 6:31, NIV)

These are Jesus’s words spoken to his disciples.  I think this is his advice to each of us in this present time as well.  He is inviting us – me, individually – to an intimate encounter with him, one which requires some measure of quiet, which minimizes competing distractions.  No phone, no TV, no internet, no background music, no busyness?   Difficult as that might be for me to arrange (and to choose), it seems to be Jesus’s requirement for experiencing the rest which he wants me to experience.  As he did with Martha of Bethany, he affirms the need to let go of the habit of prioritizing the less-essential.  “Do what’s important, not what’s urgent” is the wise old saying from 12 Step programs.

So what is this “rest” Jesus is referring to?  It’s a rest that comes from experiencing him, his Presence: his love, his goodness, his strength, his mercy and grace.  He wants to be doing the most important work in my life himself.  The Sabbath rest which was commanded in the Old Covenant was meant to remind Israel that their entire lives were not a product of their own efforts or merit, but rather a gift from him.  The Sabbath was meant for them to regularly recognize and honor God by setting aside some of the time allotted to them as different, special, holy.    

The book of Hebrews says, “…there remains a sabbath rest for the people of God [that’s you and me]; for whoever enters God’s rest also ceases from his own labors [i e., his/her merely human efforts to find deep satisfaction and peace] as God did from his [which he did on the seventh day after creation].  Let us therefore strive to enter that rest…” (Hebrews 4:9-12a, RSV).  My life’s “striving” perhaps should not be how I usually think about it – striving to achieve, striving for success or excellence, even striving for virtue and holiness. 

Instead, my efforts ought to be aimed at something completely different: “entering the rest”, finding space within my day to “come away” to be with Jesus, just me and him alone together.  For in that quiet, in that solitude, I am able to get to know him more and more deeply in privileged divine friendship.  And when that happens, I also begin to know myself more truly as well.  The lies of the Enemy that I’ve believed fall away; I begin to believe that I am really seen, deeply known, and limitlessly, personally loved by my Friend.  This is what allows my heart to be at rest. 

This is the gift that Jesus desires for me to receive and experience.  It’s a state of being that not only benefits me, but  attracts others as well.  Some might wonder how they also can experience this peace, this rest.  If I live this way myself, I can perhaps introduce others to the only One who can give them what their restless hearts long for.

So why might I resist doing this if the reward is so great?  Is there a fear of what might arise from within myself in such unstructured, vulnerable time alone with my Savior? fears of accusing, negative thoughts which I flee from the rest of the day? deep fears that I am actually unlovable, inadequate, unworthy? 

Is there perhaps a fear of silence itself –  that it might actually turn out to be empty?  Maybe deep down, I’m fearful that God isn’t real, or that he won’t be available because he’s too busy with other more important people?   If I quiet my mind and open my heart and make myself vulnerable, will I be left feeling even more adrift, alone, unloved?  All sorts of impediments can arise to keep me from being available to receive Jesus’s presence.

External solitude makes room for a Voice beyond my own wounded thoughts, my own insecurities, my limited experience and understanding.  I need courage to try God, to step out and risk my heart with him.  It won’t be easy or comfortable – some days it’s downright hard work.  I need to grow in this habit of making space in my environment so that I can welcome Jesus into my mind and heart.  I know Jesus wants to grant me his rest, his perfect trust in the Father. I need to remind myself that the effort is worth it; that if something is really worth doing, it’s worth doing even reluctantly, even imperfectly.