And I Will Give You Rest

 Come to me, all you who labor and are weary, and I will give you rest, says the Lord.

 I feel like, ever since Easter hit, I have been mostly "busy" and harried, with a few breaks. I know that I'm able to plow through a lot of work while at peace and stable interiorly, and I also know that I'm able to be thoroughly non-productive while spinning interiorly. Maybe this has been trying to plow through a lot while also not being at rest, interiorly.

These experiences teach me the need for physical rest; not inactivity, but the right kind of activity that basically pays attention to and honors my physical needs. Stretching makes my back not hurt. Stuff like that. I also need mental rest -- letting go of the list of things to do. I need relational rest, where I really understand the needs expressed (not always directly) by others, and how I play a part in how God will address those needs. It is easier and more natural for me to wear myself out mentally, emotionally and physically to meet the needs around me than it is for me to take the need to the Lord, ask how to respond, especially if what I need to do is to leave it, or direct the person to get that need met some other way. You know, if I have a need, for the most part I will do everything within the limits of my power to meet that need myself. But asking someone else to do the same -- do everything within their power to meet their own need -- somehow that seems treasonous. I seem to have this expectation, which is totally unrealistic -- that everyone is straining at 99.9% of their capacity to deal with their own need. Maybe other people are just really good at spotting someone (namely, me) who is willing to step in and help out. 

So, I come back to "come to me all you who labor and are weary." Jesus didn't condemn labor. But he does tell us that we need to come back to him. I see this as a call to contemplation. Resting in God. 

Lately when I come to prayer, I find inside me a lot of antsiness. Like interiorly I can't sit still. Gotta think about what to do next. If I'm doing this in prayer, I'm pretty sure what comes next is burn out. Prayer is the place of soaking. Soaking in God's presence, love. Resting in his embrace. Often, I need to empty myself out to get to that place of peace; and therefore I write. I need to get the things said so that the words aren't banging around in my head and heart anymore. 

What to do about all the needs people either bring to me directly, or that I can see without anyone saying anything? How did Jesus deal with this during his ministry? People came to him from all sides, sometimes lining up for days, and sometimes without food. This is exactly how the feeding of the 5000 took place -- so much need, so little resource. And Jesus asks Andrew, "So, what are we going to do about this?" I feel like I'm in an Andrew momet right now. "He asked him this to test him." 

Ok, Lord. The need is overwhelming. I've come up with this definition of a human being as a walking, breathing, aching need. And I'm surrounded by them. 

But who are we in Christ? We are a capacity for God. We are the extension of the ministry of Christ in time and space (that's the Church). We are broken vessels, in which the power of God is revealed. We are the scum of the earth, through whom the power of God is made manifest. 

And the difference is soaking in God. Being open to God: "Come to me, and I will give you rest." 

Also, this post is helpful.