Don't Guilt Yourself Out of Rest
“God always and eternally intended the Sabbath to be a lifestyle—an attitude, a perspective, an orientation for living that enables us to govern our lives and steer clear of bondage.”
We all know what it’s like to have a week or month that doesn’t cut us a break. Maybe it’s even a whole year — 2020 may fit that description for many of us. We do our best to push through hoping to make it to the other side. We put on our best positive mental attitude and keep on chugging like the Little Engine That Could. The world tells us to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps. Keep up the hustle. Stay focused on the goal. We are even reminded that God helps those who help themselves. Yada yada yada… (And by the way, God never said that last one.)
Maybe I don’t need to point out the problem with this type of thinking. We’ve all known workaholic perfectionists who don’t ever slow down. (Full disclosure: I’ve been one myself.) It’s easy to recognize these characteristics in someone else. But when we look in the mirror, what do we see? Can we recognize our own perfectionism? Do we see our own inability to give ourselves grace to slow down? Do we look into eyes that might be crying out for help?
Our culture doesn’t value weakness. But God does. That’s why 2 Corinthians 12:9 tells us “My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” He knows that life is going to make us weary. The world is going to leave us battered and bruised. But take heart, He has overcome the world. (John 16:33) And that’s a promise we can hold on to as we decide to let go and enter into rest.
Our failure to rest is often about control. I’ve got to make sure this gets done right. I don’t want people to think I can’t handle this. If I don’t do this, no one else will. I don’t want anyone to call me lazy. Does any of that sound familiar?
Years ago, I gained acceptance to a prestigious math and science high school. It seemed like a dream come true, and I was determined to succeed. My grandfather in particular expressed how proud he was of me. I didn’t want to disappoint him, my parents, or any of the teachers who had written recommendations for me. The work load was intense. I was working harder than I ever had to earn good grades. I also had a difficult roommate situation, which was allowing me very little sleep. On top of this, I was committed to keeping up with my rigorous music studies outside of school.
I vividly remember the night it all unraveled. I sat at my desk studying for a history exam. My roommates were making it hard for me to concentrate. My throat was sore, and I had a dreadful pain in my ear. As the pain intensified, I tried harder to focus on my book. Suddenly, I felt a pop and fluid rushed out of my ear. This wan’t the fist time I’d experienced a ruptured eardrum, but this time was a wake up call of sorts. My body was falling apart. The next morning, instead of attending my 7:30 physics class, I dragged myself to the health center. I had a fever, tonsillitis, two infected ears, and bronchitis, maybe pneumonia — they weren’t sure. I was told they were sending me home to recover. Without hesitation I said, “I won’t be coming back.” My body was telling me I was done. Done trying to prove something to myself. Done trying to prove something to others.
I fought with the shame of a perceived failure, but I knew I had made the right choice. I allowed myself to rest for the next couple months. But as soon as I was physically well I began to channel my striving and perfectionism into other places. And so the cycle continued.
As I look back, I can see that even when forced to rest, I didn’t understand the true purpose. Rest seemed like something we do out of necessity in order to get back to business as usual. Our beliefs about rest are inextricably connected to our identity and sense of worth. We so often place our value in our own productivity. We worry about how others perceive us, so we try to control those factors by being doers — and some of us are super doers. I know people who could win Olympic gold in doing. For some people, that seems to work…up to a point. For many people that point is exhaustion or burnout or the realization that important relationships are being sacrificed.
You see, your worth doesn’t come from doing. You can’t make God love you any more by doing all the things and running yourself into the ground. His love doesn’t work like that. Does he love a newborn baby less because they aren’t yet doing things for him? Does he love the person in a coma any less? Of course not. Productivity does not compel love. God already loves you completely.
“God doesn’t condemn our need to rest, he honors it. So don’t put condemnation on yourself.”
Here’s the truth. God knows that rest is important. It’s not an accident that keeping the Sabbath is one of the Ten Commandments. It matters to our well-being, so it makes sense that a loving, caring God would want us to rest. Hebrews 4:9 reminds us “There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God.” Most Christians have an understanding of the idea of Sabbath, which comes from the Hebrew word shabbat, meaning “to rest from labor.” And perhaps, we give it our best on Sunday. But for those who are in Christ Jesus, rest takes on a different character than just taking a day off once a week.
True rest can only come by positioning ourselves in the very heart of God. He is our rest; and as we enfold ourselves in his heart, we realize our true worth. We have no need to win approval or satisfy a list of demands. His rest is not a religious set of rules. It is a way of being. It is freedom.
In this challenging season, take time to position yourself for rest. God doesn’t condemn our need to rest, he honors it. So don’t put condemnation on yourself. Slow down. Breathe. Ask God to show you where rest is found. When we discover that place, our daily labor takes on a different character, a different purpose. Beloved, let your striving cease and trust the One who delights to give you rest. It is in his rest that we find we are truly loved.
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