“I will give you rest” (Matt.11:28). “I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint.” (Jer. 31:25). “I give you my peace” (Jn.14:27).
Dear Jesus, thank you for greeting us as a loving Savior, NOT as a disappointed coach or flustered parent. You welcome us with the Gospel not with a scorecard, with grace not with the law—with a towel to wash our feet, not with a cattle prod to get us going. Thank you.
What does weariness look like in us? It varies from heart to heart, friend to friend, marriage to marriage, family to family. Some of us are weary from a lack of really good sleep—a gift we used to take for granted. Whether our struggle is with apnea, chronic pain, more worries than REM—help us sleep deep, Jesus.
Some of us have a bright orange light on our heart’s dashboard indicating we’re dangerously close to running out of … well, everything. We’ve been leaking the oil kindness and patience for months. Our joy and hope tank is close to fumes-level. Our “tires” are thread bare from too much busyness, at too fast of a pace, too long between rest stops. Jesus, slow us down before you have us break us down.
Some of us can only smell 90% stench of life in our fallen world, and a mere 10% of the aroma of our coming life in new heaven and new earth. Change the equation, Jesus. Please make it at least 50-50. Some of us are “weary in well doing” (Gal.6:9-10). Some are in a bad way because we’ve been, (literally), nursing more grudges than drinking living water.
Some of us have no clue about the backlog, backpacks, and backwash of trauma we’ve been toting for years. Jesus, MAKE US lie down in green pastures of your mercy, grace, and your healing presence. Thank you, and So Very Amen.