What does it really mean to "rest in Christ"?

In college, I would call my mom before an exam or before a hard conversation I needed to have with a friend, or when I just felt like a hot mess and I needed to vent my fears, and she would ask, “What’s the worst thing that could happen?” And I would say something like, “I could fail” or “I will be misunderstood” or “I will always feel this way.” The conversation would go on for a while—the two of us 100 miles away and coincidentally, both sitting in our cars at a grocery store parking lot.

Mom would question the fears and the worry and then pray over me. But without fail, before getting off the phone, she would always say the same thing, “Rest in Him, Bekah-boo. He is faithful. Just rest in Him.”

And that always kind of drove me a little nuts.

I sort of felt misunderstood because it seemed like she was giving me this abstract, elusive response to my situation—“Rest in Christ”.

Furthermore, her charge seemed a little counter intuitive: In response to preparing for an exam, the idea of rest sounded more like laziness, and when reconciling with a friend, the idea of rest sounded like not taking responsibility for my actions, and rest in the middle of feeling like a total screw-up sounded like I wasn’t taking my life seriously enough.

So why did she tell me to rest? What did I need to rest from?

So I’d ask her, “WHAT DOES THAT mean to REST in Christ, Mom? And she would say, “Bekah-boo—figure it out.” And hang up the phone.

Jesus tells us what that means in the book of Matthew, chapter 11, verses 28 & 29 when he says:
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”

Before I could begin to understand the kind of rest Jesus promises here, I had to look at my work: Not my physical labor or my observable burdens—not my academics, or my relationships, or my job, or my future, or my wife-hood or motherhood, or my ministry—but a striving in my soul.

You see, if Jesus promises us a soul-level rest, then there must be a soul-level need.

And I think that’s the reason “Rest in Christ” can seem so abstract; we tend to see our activities in life as purely physical or observable. I sure do, and this is why I responded to my mom with frustration; I wasn’t going to rest, or in other words, DO NOTHING, when I had all these real demands.

But if Jesus taught us anything in his lifetime, it was that we ought to be much more concerned with what lies beneath the surface than the surface itself. He is much more concerned with our heart than our behavior, and this passage reveals that he’s much more concerned with the work beneath the work: the inner striving we all engage in which will invariably determine the way we live.

So what is this soul-level need that necessitates the labor from which Jesus promises reprieve?

It’s the very same thing that kept you and I striving before Christ FIRST revealed himself to us: it’s the soul-level need to be justified—to be declared of value; to not just be pardoned of our sin, but to be welcomed; to be completely known and unconditionally accepted by our Creator.

You might be thinking, “That sounds like the gospel,” and you’d be right.

The gospel message is not just a message we declare in hopes that people will repent from self-worship and trust in Jesus with their lives. It is the message that sanctifies those of us who have already trusted and are now being renewed in His image.

We talk a lot about gospel fluency at Sojourn Heights—about applying the gospel to moments of unbelief. Well, the call to “Rest in Christ” is a declaration of the gospel. It was my mom’s response to me when I was reeling in the aftermath of seeking my value in my ability to achieve or to be accepted. And likewise, it ought to be our response to one another as sisters and brothers in Christ when we erroneously believe that our justification--our righteousness, our worth--is up to us to determine! That it lies in our productivity, our weight, our clothes, our success, our abilities, our ministry, our intellect, our servitude, our blogs, our goals, our morality, our relationships, our experiences…that we must strive in these areas or others to obtain the worthiness we all desire; to obtain the proof that we are justified in our existence.

This strife is sin. It’s the sin of self-justification and it often just seems like you’re a hard-worker, or you take good care of yourself, or you always come through for people, but in your heart, you know that if you were no longer defined by these things—it would crush you.

And so the call “Rest in Christ” is really short-hand for a call to allow the truth of your acceptance in Christ Jesus to bear on this moment:

This moment when your kids are screaming in Target and you’re on the receiving end of judgmental stares.

In the moment when you discover that you seriously screwed the pooch at work and everyone
knows it.

In the moment when you’re trying on the 5th outfit for the morning and you’re both mad at your skin and mad that you care in the first place.

Or in the moment when you are afraid the wheels are about to fall off your parish family.

You are burdened by fear-of-man or a trust-in-self, and so you are weary, and that is the only prerequisite to Jesus’s invitation. 

Note: he doesn't say, “Rest in me”—he says, “Come to me, and I will give you rest.”
It’s a promise. And it’s a gift. But we must first come.

I remember kneeling on the carpet in my small apartment in college station my freshman year. I’d so desired the approval of others that I thought controlling my intake of food was a way to assure that approval and without it, who would I be? I was lonely and weary from the work of controlling my surroundings to protect my functional savior: my eating disorder. It was killing me in more ways than one. I turned to the Lord, and I prayed that God would deliver me from worshiping the approval of others and desiring control over the joy of knowing Him. That God would help me believe that the righteousness of Jesus was sufficient for me today. That I was really justified—“just-as-if-I’d never sinned; just-as-if-I’d always obeyed”—and that I would know on a soul-level that he loved and approved of me because my life was hidden in Christ. It was this surrender that
allowed Him to lay the ax at the foot of the approval tree that had been nourished for years by the single lie that my significance and worth was up to me.

There is a byproduct to our rest in Christ that is worth mentioning (or shouting in a loud Scottish accent):

Freedom.

When we obey Jesus’ call to “come” and we behold his glory and we rest by way of faith in his finished work on the cross, our lives are marked by a freedom that is so attractive to the world around us. A freedom that comes from the Spirit.

1 Corinthians 3:16-18 says:
“But when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.”

You can be an employee, a mom, a wife, a friend, a student, a citizen, a HUMAN who lives and breathes, not from a place of fear or shame—not from some incessant feeling that something is wrong with you and so you must prove your worth by your behavior—but from a place of rest; a deep rooted knowledge that you’re completely known in your sinful state, justified by the blood of Christ, and given access to all the fullness of God in Christ.

CH Spurgeon said of Matthew 11:28-30: “Superficially read, this royal promise has cheered and encouraged thousands but there is a wealth in it that the diligent digger and miner shall alone discover. Its shallows are cool and refreshing for the limbs, but in its depths are pearls for which we hope to dive.”

Sisters, let’s be diligent diggers. Let’s help one another mine our souls to excavate the work beneath the work so that we can spur one another on to walk in freedom!

Freedom that will allow us to work as unto the Lord, and not for the “atta-girl” from our boss.

Freedom to eat, not as unto Paleo or as unto some glutten-free fad, but as unto God, who gave us food as a gift to remind us of our dependence on Him.

Freedom to drink or to abstain from drinking, and in either, be filled with the Spirit.

Freedom to pray and petition the Lord with confidence because we have an intercessor in Jesus.

Freedom to lay our preferences down and put the needs of others before our own.

Freedom to submit to one another out of reverence for Christ, and not to quarrel or gossip or hide from conflict.

Freedom to ponder and not satiate every desire to assert our own opinion.

Freedom to suffer for His name’s sake because His glory is our hope and His goodness is our trust.

Freedom to enter into the brokenness of others because God is sovereign and he alone saves.

Freedom to love our kids, our friends, our spouse, despite their behavior, not because of it.

Let us boldly come before the Lord, as justified sisters whose lives are hidden in Christ, and let us lay down our strife and accept the promised gift of rest for our souls.

As Momma Wesley says, "He is faithful. Rest in him."

The Goodness of God in Suffering

Scripture is littered with suffering. The Bible presents trial as a painful mercy, used by a loving God to keep us from what will not lead to our ultimate delight. We're told that it produces character; that we should pray for wisdom in the midst of it, to even count it as joy. None of us are exempt.

But I wanted to take a different angle on this suffering bit. Not because we’ve mastered the art of eternal perspective in suffering, and not because we aren’t suffering. For me, the first thing I tend to forget in the midst of struggle is God’s goodness, and I need to be reminded of it again and again.

For those of you who don’t know me very well, for the last few years and sporadically throughout my life, I’ve struggled with a moderate level of depression. I wasn’t particularly surprised by its presence; we’re told in scripture not to be when we face trials and it also plagues many women in my family. I was surprised, however, after a certain period of time when it had not gone away. I’ve felt its presence during shared meals with friends and while singing words of worship each and every Sunday. Even my own wedding day wasn’t exempt from an aching numbness I couldn’t shake. I have often felt as though I am looking out a window at a colorful world from a house where everything is gray. Initially, anything I could do or eat or say that would put me back on top of this struggle was fair game. I had a little bit of fight in me, and I was sure it was a problem that I could fix. But like a fad dieter after the crash, I felt exhausted and defeated when nothing I tried offered lasting relief. I thought I could fix my circumstances, but in reality the “fix” that was needed was vastly different than what my strength could offer. The fracture was deeper; it was in the foundation. My feelings turned on me; I started to functionally believe that God wasn’t near.

Psalm 23 has always offered great comfort to me. For those of us who grew up in church, we have this image of David in this Psalm. I remember coloring pictures in Sunday school of fair completed David, sitting by a peaceful stream stroking his sheep made of Elmer’s glue and cotton balls. In reality, David is in distress; in a place of darkness and surrounded by enemies. And yet, he describes the state of his soul in front on a loving and good god, despite his circumstances and despite what his emotions tell him. He is comforted by God’s guidance and confident in his care. David says,

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.
He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.”

When you wrestle with anxiety or depression, the noise in your mind can be deafening and in my experience, quiet moments don’t come easily. But late one night, in a still moment, I asked myself a question I still remember very vividly: “If this is where you have me, if this is my lot, will I still trust and believe that you are good?” I’ve asked myself that question in various seasons of my life, and it usually correlates with the area where I am the most discontent. I want you to ask yourself the same question. Maybe for you it’s, “if this season of singleness is what you have for me, will I still trust that you’re good? If this difficult relationship, if my to do list remains perpetually unchecked, if I fail as a mommy, if I am to wait for this forever, will I still trust your goodness?" How does a distrust of his goodness manifest itself in your heart? Self-sufficiency? Loneliness? Cynicism? Distance? An inability to rest?

This season has revealed a number of things in my heart that needed to be torn down and rebuilt. I am a recovering legalist, often led by my emotions and not truth, and I’ve stuffed trauma from the past hoping it would never surface. I have judged God’s goodness by whether or not he gives me what my heart is set on. And thank God he hasn’t given me what I’ve set my heart on. These are painful realizations, but vital and necessary for an abundant life in Christ. I have not experienced complete victory over this struggle, and perhaps I never will. We know God is able to heal all things, but often the victory doesn’t look how we think it should. Things don’t always make sense now, but on this side of heaven we walk by faith when we don’t have all of the answers we’d like.

I once read a story about some of John Wesley’s last words from his deathbed. Several friends had come to visit and shared with him the many promises of God. His response to them was, “Yes, all these promises are true. But best of all, God is with us.”

Today we can rejoice in full confidence what David only had a glimpse of. Christ, our shepherd, became the sacrificial lamb in our place, for our sin. We are brought into his flock and will not be forsaken or left. Immanuel. God with us. So for those of you who doubt these things, as I have, I want Psalm 23 to wash over you and lead you into a time of prayer.

Pray for a greater awareness of God’s goodness and be comforted by it, pray for more of his presence; pray for wisdom to get through the wait. Remember David’s confidence in the Lord’s care and be comforted by his rod and staff. If you don't find yourself in a season of suffering, you have a friend who is in that place. Let this affect your counsel to one another. Let’s trust in the promise that he will not withhold any thing that is ultimately for the good of those who trust him.

Our Good Portion

"Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a women named Martha welcomed him into her house.  And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to his teaching. But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, "Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me." But the Lord answered her, "Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her." (Luke 10:38-42).

When we hear this passage discussed, the emphasis is often on Martha and Mary's behavior.  Martha is busy and distracted. Mary is attentive and kneeling.  "Be like Mary, not like Martha," we say. "Don't be a busy-body."

Martha seems devoted to serving Jesus and everyone else who came to her home. But Jesus looks past Martha's distracted service, and brings to light the true nature of her heart. He says, "Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but only one thing is necessary."

She was anxious and troubled. Martha was serving from a prideful anxiety rather than a true rest in Jesus. Although her service appears unselfish, it has a selfish root. What looks like a willingness to serve is actually a desire to impress, a desire for approval.  As we see here, her heart motivation leads to resentment and comparison, and she asks for validation from the Lord.

According to Martha, Mary was neglecting her responsibilities. But Mary was simply enthralled by Jesus. Most of the people sitting and listening to Jesus likely were men, including his 12 disciples. But rather than taking "her place" in the kitchen, Mary squeezes between the disciples and kneels at the feet of Jesus. This was no doubt a bold move, and Jesus praises her choice because she had "chosen the good portion."

What did Jesus mean by that?

In Psalm 16, David writes, "The Lord is my chosen portion and my cup; you hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance" (v. 5-6).

Other translations say, "The Lord is the portion of my inheritance and my cup". Do you see the connection here? David's "chosen portion" both now and in the life to come, his present and eternal inheritance, was the God of His salvation. And the same was true for Mary. While Martha was anxious and troubled by many things, Mary found rest in one necessary thing, the One who would secure for her an imperishable inheritance (1 Peter 1:4).

Jesus is Himself our good portion and beautiful inheritance. Yet we often refuse to acknowledge that He is truly enough for us, and instead, we turn to lesser self-serving gods. The reason we are slow to turn to Jesus is not simply that we lack discipline. It's because we are grasping for everything else in the world that we believe will make us okay.

 So let's ask the Lord now to deliver us...

• From the need to have all the right answers.
• From the need to say the right things and do the right things and look the right way so that we'll be accepted and desired by the right people.
• From the need to control every crumb that enters our mouths so that we can prove that we are in control of our lives.
• From the need to parent perfectly, striving after the approval of our children and the respect of everyone around us.
• From the need to care for everyone perfectly because we think their salvation and growth is in our hands.
• From the use and abuse of substances that numb our pain and allow us to live a life void of true feelings.
• From the belief that our chief identity as women rests in whether we're mothers or single, fertile or infertile, breastfeeding or formula feeding, staying at home or working.
• From the belief that our past cannot be forgiven.
• From the fear that we are too much this or too little that for people to really know us and love us.
• From the fear that our suffering and shame could never be healed.
• Etc., etc., etc.

Because our approval does not rest in our performance, we can confess our struggles without fear of condemnation (Romans 8). We can approach the throne confidently together because we have a sympathetic and faithful high priest who gives mercy and grace in our time of need (Hebrews 4).

In Life Together, Dietrich Bonheoffer writes this about confession: "In confession, the breakthrough to community takes place. Sin demands to have a man by himself. It withdraws him from community. The more isolated a person is, the more destructive will be the power of sin over him, and the more deeply he becomes in it, the more disastrous is his isolation. Sin wants to remain unknown. It shuns the light. In the darkness of the unexpressed it poisons the whole being of a person. But, the expressed, acknowledged sin has lost all its power. He is no longer alone with his evil for he has cast off his sin in confession and handed it over to God. Now he stands in the fellowship of sinners who live by the grace of God in the cross of Jesus Christ".

Where do you find your significance? What is it that you stand upon to say, "I'm doing okay"? Remember: You have been ransomed and redeemed. Your inheritance in Christ is eternally secure. He is the Good Portion that your soul longs for.  He is your one necessary thing. 

Lord, hear our prayer.  Receive all the glory, honor and praise as we lay our anxious and troubled hearts before you.