A Rest That Still Remains

“So then, there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God.” Hebrews 4:9 (ESV) Go ahead, take a deep breath. Inhale slowly, and as you let it out, whisper a word of thanks. Let the worries that have been clinging to your thoughts drift out with that breath. They don’t get to stay. Not right now. I’m sitting here in my study. If you were with me, I’d turn your chair toward the window so you could see what I’m seeing. The pool is still, and the lawn is busy with the gathering this morning. There’s a new little fellow, a white bunny, just hopping across the grass like he owns the place. The birds are playing, no other word for it, really, they’re playing, and the sun is doing something rather uncharacteristic for this time of year: it’s being gentle. There’s a soft breeze, and the air feels a touch cooler than it has any right to. Honestly, it’s as if the whole world has decided to take a collective sigh and slow down just enough to be noticed. I sit here watching it all, and a thought drifts into my mind, quiet as that little bunny: It’s Friday. Perhaps I should relax. Now, for someone like me, that’s a rather revolutionary notion. There is always, always something that needs my attention. My to-do list has a to-do list. There’s work to tackle, people to call about our platform, a blog post to write, and a daily devotional I’m working on that I keep telling myself I’ll finish before my trip. My daughter is waiting for me in Australia. My mom and sister are joining me on what promises to be an adventure. I can almost feel the anticipation buzzing under my skin. But right now, there’s a small matter of a travel approval we’re all waiting on. Time is feeling rather urgent. And I’ll be honest, the not-knowing has us all on edge just a little. So, I sit here, looking at the bunny and the birds, and I have to remind myself of what I know to be true. My Bible is open to a promise that feels like it was written just for this moment: “There remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God.” Not a rest that we have to earn. Not a rest that waits at the end of a finished to-do list. But a rest that remains. A rest that is already there, waiting for us to simply step into it. I cling to this for a very long time: “I have been young, and now am old, yet I have not seen the righteous forsaken or his children begging for bread.” (Psalm 37:25). That verse has seen me through a lot. And it’s whispering to me now. It’s saying, He is in control. He sees the approval. He sees the trip. He sees the stress and the hope entangled. And He will make a way. So, today, I’m going to take it a little slower. I’ll make those calls, but I won’t rush. I’ll put pen to paper for this blog, but I’ll let the words come as they will. I’ll work on my devotional, but I’ll try not to let the deadline overshadow the message. Because somewhere between the white bunny on the lawn and the promise in my Bible, I’m learning that the rest doesn’t come after the work. The rest is meant to be woven into it. Lord Jesus, what can I even say? Thank You for being the promise-keeper. Thank you for coming to us. For stepping into our rushed, anxious world to be our Saviour. You are my great provider, and I know that includes the quiet moments as much as the grand adventures. Help me to live in this rest today, to trust You with the approvals and the anxieties, and to remember that nothing, nothing, is impossible with You. I bring my mom and Zelda before you. You know exactly what we’re facing. I’m choosing to trust that You’ll open the doors at the perfect time. In the mighty and holy name of Jesus, amen.