Confessions of a Seminarian

rest the rest

I love to water ski.  I was a kid when my Grandma first taught me how to ski. Don’t laugh, she’s pretty tough, and she herself was skiing well into her 70’s.  I hope I am like that when I am that age.

Anyway, with water skiing, she taught me that there are all sorts of rules to follow to keep from falling. Keep the front of the skis pointed a little inward. Don’t pull on the rope. Keep your knees bent a little bit. Don’t lock the elbows. Don’t lean too far back or too far forward. Don’t try to do too much.

But the most important tip in water skiing was to rest on the skis, and let them do their work for you. They’re meant to support you.

I think about this every so often, resting on those skis. There’s a unique feeling in graduate school, and I suspect, in the remainder of life as well. We can all relate to the feeling that even if we could foresake sleep for days on end, working nonstop on different projects and challenges, we would still never be finished. It never ends.

Ever.

In this American culture and age, our heart’s gravitation perpetually pulls us toward the faster, louder, gaudier, and altogether extreme.  There’s always something.

Often, the only thing that slows me down is my own body. When I get sick, that’s when I slow down. And I get frustrated when this happens. My tendency is to become a human doing instead of human being. Not good. Can you relate? I know you can relate.

But the words of Jesus, as told by Matthew in his gospel, stick in the ground like a resolute flag against this way of life:

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (11:28-30).

Read them again, more slowly this time.

I love those words.

Acknowledging the context and surrounding issues of this passage, the main point is that we as people often sink ourselves into a paralyzing set of rules, standards, expectations, and a whole host of trying to merit the love of God. Trying to live up to others. Measuring our worth by what we accomplish.

We can’t do it.

I can’t do it. Neither can you. Praise Jesus that we cannot!

This is at once a wonderful and frustrating lesson to re-learn.

Frustrating because it is annoying to forget. I forget this all the time. I’ll realign priorities, and for awhile, I’ll prioritize between what’s urgent and what’s important. But the weight and the slow crush of … what? always returns. At once everything, and nothing.

Yet this re-learning of true rest is wonderful, because it is a beautiful lesson. A life of knowing Jesus and walking with Him means rest where it matters, in the soul. There is rest for us that reaches far beyond catching up on sleep, or clearing the schedule. The rest Jesus provides. Assurance that there is hope at the end of this, the end of all this. I can’t attain the rest my soul desires on my own. And yeah, there’s much of this I don’t understand, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. It just means I thankfully have more to learn about this liberating idea of rest.

So despite whatever external circumstances, rest well, friends. Rest well in the love and assurance of Jesus Christ. Be encouraged today.