He reaches for me as I pass by the couch. His gentle tug on my wrist draws me in and I kiss the tip of his nose, his chin.
“We’re going on vacation next week,” he whispers, eyes alight with childlike delight.
In our soon to be 3 years of marriage, this will be our first real vacation. In my husband’s pastoral position, we have gone on multiple trips, but always burdened with responsibility, always under the mantle of ministry.
This next week he will sit back and be ministered to by the sweet sacrament of rest.
I find it so fascinating that we serve a God who not only suggests that we take breaks, but commands that we actively schedule rest into our schedule.
I think He knew that if he merely made it a suggestion, we would opt out, choosing instead to cram in more events, more activities, more quantifiable ways to track our progress in Kingdom building.
It’s so easy for Christians to adopt the 21st century ideal that motion is equivalent to productivity. Christ beckons us to understand that our greatest moments of progress oftentimes occur with a stilled and quieted heart, lying motionless on the chest of the Savior.
Heartbeats can only be heard in quiet.
This week I plan on making great gains for the Kingdom in the nearly forgotten art of sitting hushed in the Presence of the Savior.
We serve the God of earthquakes and thunder, but we also serve the God of the lightest breeze and faintest whisper.
“And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper.” 1 Kings 19:12, NLT