“…the Lord, their true place of rest, and the hope of their ancestors…”

–Jeremiah 50:7

My suitcase is still sitting in the middle of the living room. It’s not even unpacked yet and the hum of everything that needs to be done is rising inside me. I have been battling an emotion I can’t put my finger on all day.

It was not until I read this passage that I could name it: restlessness.

This surprises me because I just got back from vacation. I broke the routine, I went to a conference full of fresh information, I escaped with Cody to Seattle for the weekend and I thought I would come back feeling rested and whole and refreshed and ready to jump back in.

But I don’t.

I don’t. Because physical rest doesn’t solve everything. Fun does not necessarily fill the soul and interesting things don’t satisfy it. Our weekend held adventure and exploration and wonder (I will never get over jellyfish), but I did not carry it home with me breathless and reminiscent, as I often do.

Then, as I read about Israel’s true place of rest, I realized that I know this place. And the times I have come back from a break relaxed and emotionally ready for the world are the times when there was a good chunk of time set aside just to be with the Lord.

This trip, I did not build in time to linger with Him. I read quickly in the morning and rushed off to the next thing. I planned visits to Pikes Place, Puget Sound, Seattle Aquarium and the Garden of Glass, but I did not plan a visit to our true place of rest.

I did not build our schedule to accomodate pauses, reflection, still moments.

I did not plan a time to ask questions, to face angst, to listen, to savor His word like a dessert instead of gulping it down like breakfast-to-go; to ponder, when I would normally get to the point; to pay attention to Him and ignore the distractions.

Physical rest is no substitute for soul rest, and that’s why a change in physical location does not automatically send me back refreshed.

New scenery helps, because it doesn’t hold all those visual cues that normally call me away to my responsibilities and my waiting to do list. But I often see new locations only for the new sights and sounds and experiences they have to offer, and miss the potential they hold to slow down. 

I miss the chance to stand still while nothing is demanded of me; to unload mental burdens and to unpack complex thoughts and to take in my Savior, unrushed. Anytime a vacation has held that, it’s been the highlight. The whole setting seems cast in warm hues, and I walk forward at ease because I have been to my true place of rest and that’s what He is like.

When I haven’t made it there, I can tell. Because physical restoration is no match for soul heaviness. A change of pace is not the same thing as emotional relief. And I find myself irritable, distracted and troubled over why my vacation isn’t working.

I can pack it chock full with exciting activities and relaxing settings, but it doesn’t come close to when there is just empty time to connect with Him. There, I find Him SO GOOD, so much better than all that I could have filled the time with.

Lord-

The relief at the end of my to do list is nothing like the rest I experience when you tell me to set it aside. You are enough while my list is unfinished. So help me to lay it down long enough to see you.

You transform the way I look at my whole world, and even the vista from the top of the Space Needle pales next to the view through the rain-stained window I have right here.

A worry-free weekend, away from all my responsibilities is not as good as a worry-free Monday, right smack in the middle of them. Because I can learn to just breathe, take each step, and follow you through it, instead of serving the thousand fears and concerns that steal away my moments while I long for my next break.

You are the Good Shepherd and you make me lie down.

So help me lie down now.

Oh self:

Lie down.

On your bed, on your couch, on your floor, in your chair, at your desk, or just in your head. Lie. Down.

Lie still, Lie flat, don’t move, don’t rush, don’t accomplish, don’t impress.

For the next 5 minutes, take a soul-cation. Rest, because HE has done the work. He will carry out His work in you. You don’t have to hold all of life together. He holds it.

Lie down all that extra stuff you’re carrying. Unload on Him.  (Psalm 55:22)

Lie down and stay there until those racing thoughts quiet and you can hear Him again.

Lie down because you’re allowed to! You are called to enter into rest. (Hebrews 4)

Lie down and enjoy the green pastures, the still waters, the breeze, the birds, the rain, deep breaths, the blank canvas behind your eyelids, the quiet musings that do not go unheard, that heart of yours that beats for a purpose beyond the ordinary.

You just had a vacation and you’re already dragging? Lie down.

You haven’t had a vacation and can’t even keep up long enough to plan one? Lie down.

Come to Me, all you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.            (Matthew 11:28)

Self, you don’t even need PTO to have it. Or a free weekend, or an escape, or a day without deadlines, meetings, small people who need you, and big people who are waiting on you. You don’t need plane tickets or a beach or a quiet forest because He is your true resting place and He is right here.

Lie down and listen.

Stand still and see.

This is what the Lord…says to all the captives he has exiled to Babylon…

Build homes and plan to stay. Plant gardens and eat the food they produce…You will be in Babylon for 70 years. But then I will do for you all the good things I have promised, and I will bring you home again.”

–Jeremiah 29:4-5, 10

This passage, titled “A letter to the Exiles” held a promise that the Israelites would come back home. But it also gave the instruction to make a home where they were.

God knew they would pine for Jerusalem, but didn’t want them to hold themselves back, contained and disconnected in Babylon. They had been forced there and that was bound to come with some baggage, but they were going to live there for SEVENTY years! They needed permission to make some peace with that and settle.

It is not good for human beings to try to remain portable and ready to pick up and move for seventy years. It is hard on us when we’re transplanted, but it is even harder when we refuse to put roots down in our new soil.

And so God challenged them to settle in the place they were, while still holding before them hope of the place they were meant for.

They didn’t have to give up on Jerusalem, it was going to happen, they were going to come back home and be restored and rescued and be close with their God again. But it wasn’t going to happen for a long time, so He gave them some short-term things to work toward, too: gardens, homes, marriage, kids, grandkids. He gave them things to enjoy while they waited and told them to pray for the land they were in, not just the land they were looking forward to.

The other day, a friend and I were discussing difficult seasons where you are not where you want to be yet, or maybe not where you want to be at all, and how you can spend the whole time just waiting for the next move. Sometimes a new season can feel like an arranged marriage, and the heart needs time to learn to love. It’s good to give ourselves that time, but also necessary to give our hearts permission.

I’ve struggled in Spokane for a long time, struggled with all the things I didn’t like and all that I didn’t understand about what was next. I struggled moving from the Sunshine State to a place where it gets dark at 3:30 in the afternoon and where winter reigns far past it’s welcome. But this year, I’m planting a garden. I set up a waterfall in my yard. I went hiking and saw a moose. I’m noticing the mist in the pine trees.

We’re leaving in 9 months. And yet, I don’t feel like I will lose what I have finally invested. I don’t have to hold it back, for it will be beauty I have thoroughly enjoyed that I can pass on to the next person who comes to call this space home. As I settle in and forge new routines and cultivate beauty, I find those efforts so much more refreshing and worthwhile than I expected. It’s not because the results will last forever, but because they help me rest, enjoy, and be where I am, even as I look forward. It is okay for me to know I will move on to a new home, and still decide to make it home where I am right now.

I am not only on my way to somewhere.

I am here.

Lord-

Help me to give the timeline to you and breathe out and breathe in and look around and call this home and thank you for it.

Help me to do this instead of growing frustrated as I pine for a place that may happen someday, but where I cannot be now – as I strain for how I’d like things to be, but constantly face my inability to control what is – as I lean forward toward who I want to be, but cannot speed up the progress.

When I decide firmly to believe what you have to say, it is such a relief from all the stress I carry. And daily you beckon me to the cross, to lay it down again and remember that I don’t have to be someone I’m not, I don’t have to be somewhere I’m not. You have only asked me to come to you and be right here. You have designed me to need breaks, to need roots, to need rest, to need you. And those needs come with your permission, those needs lead to the beautiful.

It is a sweet gift to have permission to rest, to know I am allowed to be here and this is allowed to be home. Help me not to miss it.

² For this good news—that God has prepared this rest—has been announced to us just as it was to them. But it did them no good because they didn’t share the faith of those who listened to God.^[a] 3 For only we who believe can enter his rest…this rest has been ready since he made the world…So there is a special rest^[f] still waiting for the people of God. ¹⁰ For all who have entered into God’s rest have rested from their labors, just as God did after creating the world. ¹¹ So let us do our best to enter that rest…

–Hebrews 4:2, 3, 9-11

“But a beautiful cedar palace does not make a great king!”

–Jeremiah 22:15

A leader can make himself look like a great king, or he can choose to be one, no matter how that looks.

King Josiah had helped the poor and needy. King Jehoiakim used them to erect a palace of cedar.

Jehoiakim did what was best for himself, and abused others to meet his own needs. Josiah did what was right, and all his needs were met.

“‘That is why God blessed him. He gave justice and help to the poor and needy and everything went well for him. Isn’t that what it means to know me?’ says the Lord.” 

–Jeremiah 22:16

A leader that knows the Lord chooses to do what’s right, uses his power fairly and gives his resources to care for those who need help. A leader who walks before his God knows that this is what pleases Him. The security of the kingdom against enemies, the needs of the palace, his own welfare…those are all things the Lord can handle, things the king cannot ensure by his own means anyway.

But God would have leaders turn their attention to the ones who depend on them for justice and could benefit from what power they do have, rather than obsess over the things they cannot control. And all would be well.

It is easy to become consumed with ourselves and our needs and our worries and devote all our time to a well-fortified, shiny outside.

But cedar palaces do not make great kings.

When we prioritize how we look, we often sacrifice who we are. We build a veneer that suffocates the life on the inside.

And I would rather be a good person than look like an impressive one.

I would rather hand over all that is too much for me to my God and just see to those areas where I do have the power to make a difference. I would rather relax, knowing I do not have to impress everyone else. I am free to just walk before Him. He handles all my needs, so that I can set my focus on others. And All will be well.

I do not have to chase after the things the world prizes. He is the highest prize.

I am not a king, but the choice is mine all the same. Will I build up palaces or people?

Lord-

Make me brave to live as Josiah did, to serve you as a daily routine.

To “eat and drink and do justice and righteousness.” (Jeremiah 22:15)

Teach me to prioritize doing what’s right, not just what is best for me; to decide to please you, not just to please myself; to care for others because I know that I am cared for.

Help me to know what it is to know you, Lord.

And thank you for the freedom and transformation that brings. Because knowing you creates life on the inside, even if the outside isn’t so shiny.

Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead…We must hold on to the progress we have already made.”

–Philippians 3:16

I’ve always loved the encouragement in this passage to leave what’s past behind and press ahead. Clean slate. Fresh tries. This time as I read, I noticed the advice in these last words:

We must hold on to the progress we have already made.

Too often, I try to hold on to progress I haven’t made yet. In my desire to continue growing and improving, all the things that don’t measure up fill my focus. All the things I’d like to be different. All the areas I thought would be better by now. I only see where I’d like to be and grow frustrated with where I am. I become disappointed, discouraged, and drive myself harshly forward. The criticism doesn’t really help things, but I feel obligated to be brutally honest with myself about how I’m not meeting my own expectations. Always reaching forward, never taking hold.

If I’m always looking to the next thing, the next step, the next level, my fingers will grasp frantically and come up with nothing. I am not there yet. And I can’t hold on to something I don’t yet have.

But I can, rather than despairing over where I’m not, hold on tight to thankfulness for where I am, how far I’ve come, those things I am getting the hang of.  I can recognize those areas where I do see growth, and hand my heart gentle encouragement instead.

I can hold on to the progress I have already made. In fact, I must.

If the way I’m thinking produces anxiety, I must change the way I think, because He has said “Be anxious for nothing.” (Philippians 4:6)

If the way I set my goals produces discouragement, I must change the way I set my goals, because He has said “Do not be afraid or discouraged.” (Joshua 1:9)

And if the way I face my past covers me with shame, I must change the way I look at my past, because He has said, “So now there is no condemnation for those who belong to Christ Jesus.” (Romans 8:1)

I am free to look back and be thankful. To be here and be thankful. To look forward and take hope.

And I must.

Lord-

I want to keep moving forward, but not without celebrating what you have done so far in me. When I look at me, I will never, on this earth, see perfect.

But I will see progress.

Cursed are those who put their trust in mere humans, who rely on human strength and turn their hearts away from the Lord…But blessed are those who trust in the Lord and have made the Lord their hope and confidence.

–Jeremiah 17:5, 7

I have a picture frame sitting on my writing desk right now that displays this reference. It’s there, not only to challenge me to hope, but to remind me that I must put my hope in the right place.

Today I sit here again, intimidated at the prospect of final edits on the book I’m writing. (It’s been undergoing “final” edits for a while now…). I’m afraid to finish because that means deciding whether to try for a publisher or just self-publish.

I’m unsure of what to try, what to expect, and yet I find myself back at this verse and it holds a question as it always does, a question I must ask when I begin to back away and grow discouraged: Where is my hope?

To rely on human connections, human charm, human strategy, human strength, human resources, human effort, is to turn away from the Lord. And when I turn my gaze from Him, I will always grow discouraged in proportion. The challenges grow larger and more impossible. What I have to offer is laughable compared to them.

Who am I? Who am I? I ask, shrinking back, wondering what I was thinking to even try.

But the right question is who is He? Who is He?

As I look to Him, I hope and I am not ashamed. I trust Him and there I find blessing. I lean forward and find what I do not expect.

And it is good.

So Lord-

With this step, and every other, help me just to lean forward, eyes fixed on you, and follow. Teach me not try to figure out what to expect around this corner, but to find fresh hope in knowing you will walk me through it. You will give me all I need to face it, when it is time.

Be my confidence when my confidence is lacking. Remind me that nothing is too hard for you, especially when my hope hesitates at the sight of me. You do not depend on large offerings or great talent. You use willing hearts. (2 Chronicles 16:9)

You do not ask me to risk for no reason, and I do not have to fear rejection or failure. They are not the end of me, because I am not rejected by you; and because if I have obeyed you, I have not failed.

If I have chased after you and find myself in water too deep, it is there I will find your grip steady and sure. I may be cold and wet and disappointed, but I will find again that I am not out here alone.

And maybe, just maybe, this time, I’ll walk.

Here’s hoping.

Those who look to him for help will be radiant with joy;
    no shadow of shame will darken their faces.

–Psalm 34:5

“I know, Lord, that our lives are not our own. We are not able to plan our own course. So correct me, Lord, but please be gentle…”

–Jeremiah 10:23

I listened to a speaker today who talked about knowing what I want and not seeing that desire as the enemy. She said that knowing what I want and demanding it are two different things. That knowing what I want can lend clarity to decisions and that it even prepares me for when I don’t get it, because I can name what it is I’m feeling (disappointment) and move through it rather than wonder why I feel irritable and frustrated.

I feel like this verse offers the other half: I can know what I want, but I cannot know what will be.

My desires are not for no reason, but they are not always for this time.

I am not able to plan my own course. I am not able to make my will happen. But I am able to offer my wants to Him and ask for gentle direction, gentle correction, and gentle reminders that I am not my own.

He has plans for me, the one He created: higher plans, better plans than mine, and that is why He plans the course. That is why I am not able to.

So Lord –

Plan it. However you like. And help my heart along as it names its desires, offers them to you with hope, and then waits.

Commit your way to the Lord,
Trust also in Him,
And He shall bring it to pass.
He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light,
And your justice as the noonday.

–Psalm 37:5-6

“They did not ask, ‘Where is the Lord who brought us safely out of Egypt and led us through the barren wilderness – a land of deserts and pits, a land of drought and death, where no one lives or even travels?’…My people have done two evil things: they have abandoned me – the fountain of living water. And they have dug for themselves cracked cisterns that can hold no water at all.”

-Jeremiah 2:6, 13

He is not the God of the easy way. Not of straightforward paths, convenient circumstances and undisturbed comfort.

No one traveled the wilderness. But He led thousands through it, with elderly, women, and children among them.

He is not the God of the boring.

He is the fountain of living water. He can lead his people into barren places because He is able to meet all their needs there. He is not a well with only so much to go around, but an ever-replenishing fountain that can always offer more when more is needed.

He is not a good fairy that would always buffer and lead away from danger. Not a God who depends on good circumstances to keep his people safe, but a Maker of warriors that plunges right into the darkness and fights for and alongside His people.

He is not what I expect.

He is not what Israel expected. He is glorious, and they wanted wood. Boundless, but they wanted someone they could understand. Almighty, but they wanted something they could control.

And so, while those who worshiped false gods held fiercely loyal to their empty symbols of protection, Israel turned away from the One who had led them through wastelands no one survived, out of slavery no one escaped, into promise no one imagined.

To broken cisterns. To figures of wood that did not speak to them or lead them anywhere or perform any wonders. Useless, empty wells.

And I turn, too. Because I, too, want something I can understand, control, summon. I don’t like being led into danger. I become lazy and start to prefer comfort to wonder. I let my soul go dry.

But I was made to seek a living fountain – to thirst and keep drinking, to face danger, to feel wonder, to follow, not totally understanding, to believe for promises still ahead, unseen, out-of-reach.

Lord-

This is what a life of walking with you looks like. Teach me not to grow tired and turn. The wells stay put, but they are empty. You are moving, challenging, beckoning me forward: into difficulty, through fear, toward the barren. But you are life, so I will follow. Anything else is a pale, dry substitute to a dehydrated soul.

So teach me not to exchange you, not to grow frustrated and abandon you, not to listen to my fear and shrink back.

Teach me to follow close, eager, breathless. It’s terrifying, but you are a faithful leader.

“Bezalel made the bronze washbasin and its bronze stand from bronze mirrors donated by women who served at the entrance of the Tabernacle.”

-Exodus 38:8

This is just one of many instances where the people of Israel gave of their belongings to provide for Tabernacle construction. But it stood out to me because of what these women gave. Bronze was needed and so they gave bronze. But in doing so, they gave up their ability to look at themselves.

They lived in tents in the wilderness; I doubt they  had several mirrors hanging. Bronze was precious metal, I don’t know that they had it in abundance. I suppose there were occasional pools in the wilderness, but water is a poor substitute for a mirror.

And yet these women traded self-gazing for cleansing. They gave up the ability to see what they looked like so that the spiritual leaders of Israel could approach God sprinkled clean. They exchanged seeing the dirt for dealing with it.

And still I think it’s a necessary exchange. Look at myself or look to Him. For gazing longer does not help what I see. But I can give the image-caster to Him and say,

“Fix this, Lord. I have no way to. You make me clean.”

And it is a beautiful trade.