Resting in surrender

Most of my life, I haven’t been a good napper. My mom says even when I was a baby, I didn’t want to nap. In my toddler years, I also only wanted to wear pink and purple dresses, which is evidence that most things do change.
Many Wednesday afternoons this school year, my 11-year-old girl and I have napped. She gets out of school two hours earlier than the rest of the week, so I’ve tried to protect that time as downtime. Sometimes I cook or throw in another load of laundry. But I try not to work.
And we love our Wednesday afternoon rest time.
Usually, I start reading a book and then decide napping sounds better. She may watch a show or join me for a nap. Eventually, I set an alarm, maybe to remind me to put whatever I’m cooking for small group into the oven before we need to leave, or maybe just to wake up.
We didn’t nap this Wednesday, and, honestly, I missed it.
There was a time in life when I would have thought it was silly to build in rest time. Of course, we did it for our kids when they were little. But this 47-year-old momma needs to rest too.
For me, learning to rest has come with learning to surrender.
I’ve walked with Jesus for three decades now, and He’s still teaching me what surrender looks like. As I look back and see what God has done, I can more easily trust His faithfulness in what’s ahead. Jesus holds the whole world together, which means I don’t even have to try. There’s freedom there for me, a recovering perfectionist with a lot of Type A tendencies.
Rest isn’t something I have to earn by finishing everything on my to-do list. As I learn to rest in Jesus’ accomplishments and grace, I can rest more comfortably in my bed on a Wednesday afternoon.
I think about Matthew 11:28-30, which is especially beautiful in The Message. Jesus invites the weary to come to Him, learn from Him, and experience the “unforced rhythms of grace.”
I’ve forced myself into plenty of moments of a false sense of control. I’ve wrestled with outcomes far beyond my reach. I’ve stayed up too late replaying conversations that have already been had. I’ve regretted not asking for help. I’ve held on way too tightly to too many projects and people.
So those unforced rhythms of grace are even more inviting than my bed, which my fifth-grade girl says is the best bed in the house. (Truly, hers is quite comfortable too.)
Those rhythms of surrender and freedom are welcome here on any given afternoon, regardless of whether I get a nap.
I can be still because He is God (Psalm 46:10). He will fight for me. He will lead me. He will provide abundantly.
And He will give me real rest.
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