Rest on Me

The last 9/10 months of life have probably been the hardest I can recall, in every way – physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I’ve felt pulled, hammered, torn and spun in every different direction and life has felt clouded, uncertain and often mechanical.

I felt like all I could manage was to cling with my heart and soul as tight as I could, eyes shut and teeth clenched, to the promise in Deuteronomy 31:6.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lordyour God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”

This is not to say that I’ve went about each day peacefully and prayerfully. In all honesty most days were a blurry confusion of heartache, anxiety and frustration, but there were moments when I remembered, and tried to gather my energies to cling once more to Him.

Then, out of the blue, at the end of another stormy day, and after months of patient urging from my husband to pick up my journal and spend some time in quiet prayer, I relented and picked up my pen. I didn’t want to, and had been putting it off for so long, because to put words to how I was feeling was painful.

Finally, words flowed along with tears and I asked “how much longer do I have to hold on like this? Can’t you see I’m breaking?”

And the words came back so gentle of softly, “you’ve never had to hold on. Let go and rest on Me.” And in the dark of the evening it all suddenly made sense for a moment and the sense of peace was like no other.

Then next morning came, however, and I had to remember those words over again, learn what they meant and actually try to put them in to practice.

In those desperate moments that arise throughout the day, when children are crying and the fry pan is over heating and the washing has been sitting (washed) in the machine for 3 days straight, rather than tensing and clinging tightly to that last shred of sanity with a gritted prayer, to breathe and let go of it all. To give that moment to Him, and let peace and grace and forgiveness wash over you. It sounds like it should be easy, but its like jumping into a frigid pool on a hot day; you know relief will be immense, but that initial change can be jarring and keeps you hovering at the edge for longer than you’d expect.

Yet the more you do it, the less of a shock it becomes, the easier it is to do it without hesitating.

I’m totally preaching to myself here – its been a good month or two since that little encounter and I’m still trying to put this into practice. But maybe someone out there needs to know that they don’t have to cling, they can just rest.

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