I.am.tired.
It is a constant phrase I am guilty of repeating and consistently hearing. But I am. I am tired. I’m tired of stress, an endless to-do list, mountains of worries, the heaviness of inadequacies. I am tired.
And simply put, I’m tired, because I’m not resting.
“Why are you not resting, Kali? That’s silly,” is a common response I hear after reciting the recurring phrase. I usually respond with the impossible amount of tasks I need to complete that justifies my lack of rest. It wasn’t until this week of a “break” that I realized it’s not my tasks that are keeping me from resting, rather it’s a lack of trust that keeps me restless.
I feel guilty for resting. This can be pointed towards a crazed society’s views about scheduling, or my incapability to say no, but overall I am convinced it is a lack of trust I have in the Lord and a swelling pride that keeps me from resting.
My “comfort” is found a majority of the time in the amount of tasks I cross off my to-do list. My worth or identity is measured in the quality of my work. I am often missing the “here and now” moments because I’m so fixated on how the future will play out. My.mind.never.stops. UGH! What a sick addiction. But why, why does my mind never stop? The hard truth is because I don’t trust the Lord completely. I don’t trust him with “my” to-do list and “my” future and “my” comfort, because… it’s “mine.”
To trust is to have confidence placed in a person and a firm belief in the ability of that person. Do I have that kind of trust in the Lord? Am I counting on him to be my only option? Do I believe not only that hecan come through, but that he will?
I have recently been learning a lot about what it means to take refugein Jesus. I have been deeply convicted that he is not my only source of refuge, which explains my dissatisfaction of comfort. The lessons I really need to learn are usually the times in my life when I have walked away with bumps and bruises after wrestling with the Lord. The Lord brings me to my knees and continually knocks me upside the head with a spiritual 2×4 over and over again until it breaks through this stubborn spirit of mine.
There have been few times in my life when a word continually comes up over and over again, but recently it has been one of those times. Refuge: a word that defines comfort and protection, yet has given me chill bumps each time I’ve heard it recently. Why? Because, I don’t want to deal with a lesson that I need to learn (insert spiritual 2×4 here).
One of my all time favorite songs is “My Comfort” by Davy Flowers. There is a line in the song that has been ringing in my soul these last few days.
In the rock, I will hide
And I hide away beneath the shadow of your wings
And when I cry and faint, I have a place that comforts me
You comfort me
Each time I hear that part in the song I envision myself as a child, weak and fragile, wrapped in a blanket. A blanket brings comfort to a child because it covers them. It is a place of hiding because they feel as if the world can’t see them and when they do, they see the blanket, not the body. As I have this picture in my head, I am reminded that there is refuge provided in the shadow of my Father’s wings. Yet, I refuse to hide in the shade and be covered in righteousness and comfort because I am too stubborn. I stand in the sun and let it beam down and the heat gets too hot. I am exposed because I am weary and fragile. I need to rest in the shade, but I run to other weak sources to be my refuge.
“I love you, O Lord, my strength. The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.” Psalm 18:1–2
“Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us” Psalm 62:8
“For you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy. My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me” Psalm 63:7–8
As a child, the blanket is our identity. It’s what people would see if they were to walk into a room and we were underneath it completely. In the shadow of his wings is our identity; his refuge is our identity. May I stop pouring out my heart to other things and wasting my time worrying over the tedious tasks I need to get done. May I be reminded of who I am and where I am standing (in the shadow of his wings) and may I believe that on His promise I will stand, because all other ground is sinking sand.
I have to let go. I have to completely trust that his shade is sufficient. In my inner most being, I was designed to have someone in control of my life who can promise peace. That someone is not me. The fear cannot burn me anymore, unless I walk back into the very thing he saved me from. I can’t be my own savior. May I trust that you are a God who knows my needs even before they cross my mind, and you command me to rest. May my trust be greater in your word than the tasks I see before me. I cannot lean on my own understanding, so I will trust in you with all my heart (to-do lists, emotions, feelings, worries, and stresses).
Freedom is experienced when I take refuge. Freedom is experienced when I surrender. Taking refuge in the shadow of your wings is surrender because it’s admitting that I need a place bigger than me to hide me, because I recognize I am not in control. I am hiding myself in something — admitting it’s bigger, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to hide.
“Oh taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!” Psalm 34:8
“When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears and delivers him out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all.” Psalm 34:17–19
“How precious is your steadfast love, O God! The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings” Psalm 36:7