The Courage To Rest

“If you can’t take time to rest, your rest will eventually take you.” —Unknown.

I've been working nonstop over the past several days as I prepare to relist my house with a new realtor, who hopefully will be able to sell it soon.  My dad and stepmom have been right alongside helping me with painting, landscaping, cleaning, and the like.  

Today, a photographer came over to shoot video and to take photos for the listing.  Before he arrived with the realtor this morning, I was still bustling, trying to get the place photo-ready.  

As I sit here this moment, I feel like I'm completely wrung out, and I've got a bunch of non-house-related work to do.  And I'm beating myself up for not getting more done.  

Also, I've told at least four people how tired and busy I am already today.  

We live in a world that glorifies exhaustion. Our culture applauds busyness, rewards overwork, and subtly convinces us that our worth is tied to our productivity. We are told to keep going, to hustle harder, to prove our value through motion. 

And yet Jesus says something radically different: “Come to me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”

Rest takes courage. It requires the audacity to believe that the world—and even the church—will keep spinning without our constant supervision. It calls for a deep act of trust in a God who neither slumbers nor sleeps, but who tenderly commands us to stop striving. “The Sabbath was made for humankind,” Jesus said, reminding us that rest isn’t a luxury or a suggestion. It’s a sacred rhythm woven into creation itself.

True rest is not simply sleeping in or taking a vacation, though those are good gifts. True rest is a posture of the soul—a way of remembering who we are and who we are not. It’s a declaration of faith that our identity is not earned by what we do, but received in whose we are. 

When we rest, we practice surrender. We admit that we are finite creatures held in the infinite grace of God.

The courage to rest is also a form of resistance. It pushes back against the empire of endless productivity and perfectionism that enslaves so many hearts. When we stop, breathe, and trust, we join God’s own rhythm of creation and renewal. In that stillness, we rediscover joy, gratitude, and a sense of being rather than doing.

Maybe you’ve been running too long—trying to prove something, fix something, or hold everything together. Hear this good news: you don’t have to. Rest is not a reward for having done enough; it’s the starting place for remembering that you are enough.

Prayer

God of rest and renewal,
teach me to trust that your world can go on without my constant motion.
Help me to stop striving long enough to feel your peace restoring my soul.
When I am tempted to measure my worth by my work, remind me that I am your beloved child,
created not only for labor, but for love, joy, and holy rest.
Amen.

Reflection Questions

1. What fears or insecurities make it difficult for you to rest?

2. How might you build small Sabbath practices into your daily or weekly rhythm?

3. What would it look like for you to rest—not just your body, but your mind and spirit—in God’s care this week?