The Rest of the Year

In November, my husband and some of our wonderful friends finished up the beautiful deck I am currently enjoying. Complete with a sturdy roof, it's the perfect place to enjoy the outdoors year-round. Just inside our back door is our youngest, lying at the threshold, playing with one of his new Christmas gifts, and watching me through the glass. My husband is in front of the TV railing against the actions of his favorite local football team. This is what we call rest, and we all do it in different ways. I can't say my husband's method is restful --in fact, it's not for me, so I gave it up a long time ago. Our youngest wouldn't find my choice restful at all --writing is one of his "least desired" tasks, according to his teachers. But rest is very important, so important, in fact, God commanded it for His people, people for whom He's been demonstrating its importance since Creation. 

Over Christmas, we spent a few days with our daughter's family. Our entire household was just recovering from a cold so relentless, we were on our third week of it when the time came for us to pack up. Thankfully, our visit was filled with opportunities to rest. The children occupied themselves by playing happily together from morning to night. The adults were content to do a bit of cooking, lots of eating, and just spend some time together. When we returned home, our energy levels had returned and only an infernal cough continued to plague my husband. Resting our body is important.

We spent the last days of 2023 with our other family. We exchanged gifts, laughed, ate, chased after children, refereed disputes over hide-n-seek, recalled Christmases past and those who were with us then, worshipped with our beloved church family, stowed leftovers and washed dishes, and turned our thoughts toward the coming year. So much activity, but every bit of it left us feeling refreshed and renewed, close and cared for. As legs wearied from the carrying and climbing and bellies ached with all of the laughter, as red-faced children panted exhaustedly before us, begging for the next snack or regaling us with the story of their newly discovered "perfect" hiding spot, as wrapping and bows were cleaned up and crumbs vacuumed, a certain sort of rest settled deep within us, the rest that comes as we gather with those we love. Rest takes place in our hearts as well.

In Matthew 11:28-30, Jesus says to those who struggle and carry great burdens, Come to Me, ...and I will give you rest. He doesn't say we will cease to be burdened by or struggle with the things this world throws at us (in fact, He says this world will give us trouble), but He encourages us to submit to His discipline and learn from Him. Then, He says, you will find rest for your souls. When we surrender to His plan via His precepts for His glory, the pain we are called to endure, the rivers we are called to cross, the mountains we are called to climb, the fires we are called to go through --whatever it is we are given to do becomes a light affliction, an easy yoke, and rest for our souls. Our souls long for rest.

We are not singular beings: we have physical, emotional, and spiritual needs. Those needs must be addressed, met, and given opportunity to experience quiet and rest. We need to take a break from our achieving and running to allow our bodies to refuel and recalibrate in the same way we are meticulous about charging our devices or maintaining our vehicles. We need to be surrounded by the love and laughter of our people as much as we need to be clothed and housed.  We need to address the poverty and darkness of our souls by flooding them with the mercies and light of Jesus Christ. Our society does not value rest. I believe it shows in our mental health, our physical well-being, societal stability, and our spiritual worldview (or lack thereof). But as we --individuals, children of God --choose to follow Jesus into His work and find our rest in Him, we can lead others, our children, our neighbors, our nation into season after season of much-needed, clearly mandated rest. I encourage you to make this year a year of discovering and experiencing the rest your being requires.

Midweek: Growth

The following was written by Susanna Foth Aughtmon, and printed in Guideposts' Mornings with Jesus, May/ June 2023:

He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit He prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. ~ John 15:2

My neighbor Heidi recently took a new job at a gardening center and is now on a mission to rescue plants in need of a little TLC. She knows I have a green thumb, and yesterday she gave me a needy salvia plant to see if I could save it.

Salvia usually has perky green leaves and bright purple flower spikes, but part of this one was wilted, and the other part had turned crispy brown. After a good soak in the kitchen sink overnight, I gently cut away the dead leaves and charred blossoms. Water, sunlight, and nutrients from the soil could now work toward restoration.

Jesus does the same with me. When areas of my life are not thriving or growing the way they should, He removes or cuts them back. Often this feels devastating. Pruning sometimes comes in the form of a job loss, enduring family issues, divorce, financial ruin, health scares, a desperate diagnosis, or even the death of a loved one. While Jesus doesn't necessarily cause painful events, He often uses them to prune me and help me grow past my selfishness, pride, coveting, bitterness, and self-sufficiency. Jesus prunes me because He loves me. He wants me to grow and flourish in Him --and for Him.

Just as I dramatically cut back the salvia to help it grow, the Master Gardener is always working in my best interest to help me grow too.

~ Susanna Forth Aughtmon

One Word

In the last few moments of 2023, someone challenged, "Describe the year in one word." My immediate reaction was Huh? Not Huh? as in, I don't understand the assignment, but Huh? as in This year was one big surprise after another. Though that would be an accurate synopsis, I think that can be said of many years. Der Mentsch Tracht un Gott Lacht (Man plans and God laughs), a coworker used to tell me. Based on the stories a dear friend and I share constantly --moments we found ourselves red-faced or scrambling to rework things only to throw our hands up and exclaim, Okay, okay, You do it! --that can be said not only of multiple years, but by many of us. But if I spend some time really thinking about the events of the past year, the word I would use would have to be Relationship. 

Some of the relationships I was trying to maintain with people from my past simply, quietly and finally fizzled into nothingness. For someone who pushes herself to do and achieve, to share the Gospel with others (and often times stays too long at the ball, hoping to see the results) that was different. And it didn't mean those relationships needed to be gone in the sense they were dysfunctional or weak or immature, but life is motion, and with that comes relocation, the passage of time, new priorities --things that can alter how we do the relationships we are in and can signal the end of others. It doesn't mean we have failed, but it does mean we have let go and released things into the motion of life.

Some relationships were strengthened, some were restored, and some were given birth. Relationships meant for me joined the ebb and flow of my days --some sweetly and gradually, some with a huge, raucous celebration to announce their arrival. I fueled them and they fueled me. I focused on being intentional in those relationships --saying those things rather than feeling foolish about them, planning ways to get together as zealously as I planned those things "I have got to do" (Repeat after me, Relationships are important.), and not allowing my busyness to cause me to grumble Why is he calling me when he can just text?! (Remember when we used to talk on the phone?) 

My relationship with myself became more complicated. I continue to, like the Apostle Paul, wonder why I don't do the things I want to do, and I do the things I do not want to do. I procrastinate, I waste time, I get distracted from my purpose, I don't trust or pray or study or meditate or memorize the way I want. I long to be who God wants me to be and experience all He has for me, but I want to take it in pill form, to swallow it down with an eight-ounce glass of water (or Communion wine) and be. But, I suppose, that's where my relationship with Jesus is as pivotal as it is in my relationship with others. Those parts of me that are meant to be released, to simply, quietly and finally fizzle out, will do so as I continue to press on toward the mark. Those parts of me that will be given birth in the upcoming three hundred sixty-five days need to be evaluated and attended to in light of the One who created me and knows me. When I fail, when I don't live up to my expectations, I trust that my relationship with Jesus is paramount to any goal I have set, that He is calling me to be in communion with Him, and this is so not about me.

So, how would you describe your 2023 in one word? And what lessons were you given to take into 2024?