Rest Rehab

     As I’ve journeyed with others in the listening practice of spiritual direction for over a dozen years, the one thing that rises to the top of so many conversations is the hunger for rest. We carry the weight of heavy expectations, either self-imposed or those hoisted upon us by others that we have yet to figure out how to release. We’ve been immersed, yes, baptized into the waters of a just-do-it, let’s-go, hyped-up culture obsessed with production, efficiency, setting goals, reaching beyond. None of these are wrong until they become the driver of our day, and until they diminish or demean the God-given rest that aligns our being with our Creator.

     Our over-informed, over-dramatized, over-caffeinated society can’t seem to rest. And the over-abundance of products and choices attempts to mold us into a consumer-driven identity in search of the next must-have wonder to make life easier or more fulfilling. The pace, the pressures, the performance mentality can silently traumatize the soul, leaving us feeling anxious but desperately thirsty for a deeper peace.

     Like most people, I recognized the difficulty of resting while I was still employed, prior to retirement. Of course, I took vacation time and tried to find space between the endless meetings, phone calls, or deadlines so they didn’t back up one against another. But I also recognized that when I was away from the workplace, my mind never fully let it go, never rested in the sense that I left behind the anxiety-producing push to do more. Always, the underlying thoughts of what awaited me when I returned to work wedged its way into my resting places, yanking the pillow from under my head and hogging the covers.

     When I finally left the workplace and began my retirement, I felt like I needed to go into rest rehab, to detox from the stress and learn again how to rest, to play, to simply be. I’m still learning to rest even as I’m unlearning people-pleasing; learning to breathe and unlearning hurry; learning to release, unlearning clenched fists; learning gratitude, unlearning discontentment. And whether I’m working or resting, this process is a never-ending invitation to enter the Divine presence that gently leads the way to self-presence, and presence to others.

     Paradoxically, rest is not a static or empty state of being, nor is it something we earn after we’ve worked hard enough. Rest requires that we consider two things: An invitation to rest from something that is life-depleting, and the call to rest in something that is life-giving. Rest moves us from one way of thinking to a new way of being. It moves from the tight grip of control to a tender touch of welcome; from hustling to hallowing, from reacting to pondering. This is grace, and maybe grace is the ultimate rest, the bed and the pillow where we lay down our striving and simply snuggle under the covers warmed by the blessed beloved-ness of who we are at our core, the essential truth of the Divine image breathing and flowing through us.

     I’m continually finding creative ways to open doorways of rest for my soul. Whether I simply welcome all that unfolds within my ordinary day, or schedule disciplined times of retreat, or practice centering prayer, or morning pages in my journal, they each give me pause and remind me that rest is the Divine gift given by the hand of God. At the dawn of time, the God who needed no rest modeled rest for us weary-prone humans as a means of hallowing our days and tending to our hurried spirits. May you find your place of rest where clarity shimmers, and depth rather than distance becomes the focus of your journey. Time to stop, reflect, and be nourished by sacred rest is ours for the taking, inviting us to experience abundant life in the midst of our restless world.

For your reflection:
How might you integrate rest as a spiritual practice in your life? What are the things you need to rest from? And what do you need to rest in? How can this shift move you from the hustle of doing to the stillness of being?