Are We Resting?
Our son had a minor, routine surgery the other day and I guarantee it was more traumatic for my husband and I than it was for him. He is just over a year old and while much can be said about the surgery process as a whole and what it is like to be in the waiting room, watching that screen and hoping the colors documenting the stage of surgery move right on along like they should and that surgeon barreling through the door isn’t for you, what struck me most about that whole day was the moment right when he was waking up from the anesthesia. As my son went under, I got to bunny suit it up and hold him, quietly reminding him that he wasn’t alone and that we loved him as they put the gas mask on and he went to sleep. After all was said and done in the OR, the surgeon came and got both my husband and me as they were wheeling little man to the PACU and we could hear him blasting those healthy lungs as we popped back through the patients-only section.
He’s covered in wires--IV and heart rate and O2 monitors--along with what seem like a Medusa-quantity of other cords and 5 nurses are a well-oiled machine getting what isn’t necessary anymore out of there so I can pick him up. My brave little boy doesn’t even have his eyes open yet, but not 2 seconds after I pick him up and begin talking to him and rocking him like only Mama does, his wails stop and his heart rate decreases. His eyes flutter a bit, but stay closed, and all 18-pounds of him sink into my arms, head falling on my shoulder. He knows deep down in his bones, even before all the anesthesia’s worn off, that he’s safe. He knows his Mama is there. He can rest.
“I will feed My flock and I will lead them to rest,’ declares the Lord God.” Ezekiel 34:15
I wonder if this is how God feels when we come to him ragged and bleary-eyed and yelling at the top of our lungs with anguish, disoriented from the inequities of the world around us. Does God get that sense of protection and willingness to do whatever it takes to make sure God’s children know they are loved and safe? I’ll take Jesus as an answer to that question. But even more sobering, do I have that kind of trust in the One who is our source of true comfort? When I’m beaten down by the world or my own sin, and I run to the Healer, do I act like my son and know my Abba is there? Do I truly rest? All too often, I go with one eye open, one arm trying to balance myself, one leg out the door just in case this rest is not really all God says it is. Just in case I need to pick myself up by my bootstraps and make it work. As a mama breathing deep when her son son found rest in her, how painful it must be for God when we come to him, but don’t find our rest.
“God has told his people, ‘Here is a place of rest; let the weary rest here. This is a place of quiet rest.’ But they would not listen.” Isaiah 28:12
May you find real, deep, ultimate rest in the One who invites us and expects to bear it all. May we all have the courage and trust to relinquish our grip and rest with abandon. May we be like a one-year-old just waking up from surgery in his Mama’s arms.
“Then Jesus said, ‘Come to me all you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for you souls.’” Matthew 11: 28-29
He’s covered in wires--IV and heart rate and O2 monitors--along with what seem like a Medusa-quantity of other cords and 5 nurses are a well-oiled machine getting what isn’t necessary anymore out of there so I can pick him up. My brave little boy doesn’t even have his eyes open yet, but not 2 seconds after I pick him up and begin talking to him and rocking him like only Mama does, his wails stop and his heart rate decreases. His eyes flutter a bit, but stay closed, and all 18-pounds of him sink into my arms, head falling on my shoulder. He knows deep down in his bones, even before all the anesthesia’s worn off, that he’s safe. He knows his Mama is there. He can rest.
“I will feed My flock and I will lead them to rest,’ declares the Lord God.” Ezekiel 34:15
I wonder if this is how God feels when we come to him ragged and bleary-eyed and yelling at the top of our lungs with anguish, disoriented from the inequities of the world around us. Does God get that sense of protection and willingness to do whatever it takes to make sure God’s children know they are loved and safe? I’ll take Jesus as an answer to that question. But even more sobering, do I have that kind of trust in the One who is our source of true comfort? When I’m beaten down by the world or my own sin, and I run to the Healer, do I act like my son and know my Abba is there? Do I truly rest? All too often, I go with one eye open, one arm trying to balance myself, one leg out the door just in case this rest is not really all God says it is. Just in case I need to pick myself up by my bootstraps and make it work. As a mama breathing deep when her son son found rest in her, how painful it must be for God when we come to him, but don’t find our rest.
“God has told his people, ‘Here is a place of rest; let the weary rest here. This is a place of quiet rest.’ But they would not listen.” Isaiah 28:12
May you find real, deep, ultimate rest in the One who invites us and expects to bear it all. May we all have the courage and trust to relinquish our grip and rest with abandon. May we be like a one-year-old just waking up from surgery in his Mama’s arms.
“Then Jesus said, ‘Come to me all you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you. Let me teach you, because I am humble and gentle at heart, and you will find rest for you souls.’” Matthew 11: 28-29
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