This past October marked our seventh year in Texas.
In the Old Testament the seventh year is the Year of Jubilee. The year the Israelites were required to set their slaves free, give up the land that didn’t belong to them, claim the land that did belong to them, and not work the land for one full year. It was to be a year of rest.
Can you imagine being a farmer and be told you can’t work for one year? I can’t.
The Year of Jubilee was to be a year of rest and therefore trust. They were told to trust that everything that they harvested the year before, would be enough for this year. God would be, and is, enough.
This is our seventh year in Texas and I am feeling super challenged to let this be my year of rest. An intentional year of trust. This is especially interesting to me–perplexing even–because this year is busy. We’re in the process of upping Nafe’s therapy from five times per week, to eight. We’re doing lots of medical testing to figure out the cause of his pain. I’ve been working on some writing projects that can become quite demanding if I let them. I’ve been speaking a little bit, which is time-consuming. These things have all been a lot of work, yet I feel like I’m being called to rest. It’s a paradox.
So I’m being challenged–in this season especially–to redefine rest. Resting is not easy. Actually I think it’s hard work. It’s a discipline and a choice to believe that God is enough. To not be constantly working hard to make things happen. And that’s where the trust comes in.
I want to keep at it. I want to keep planning and scheming. I want to know where we are going to live next because I feel like we’re busting at the seams in our house because medical equipment is taking the place of my furniture. I want to know where my oldest is going to school next year, because right now it seems like anything is on the table. I want to know what the next step in Nafe’s therapy plan is so that we can get him to communicate in some way. I want to work, work, work. And God keeps saying rest, rest, rest. Trust Me.
The things I have to do won’t go away, but I need to know where to go for rest and strength to do all these things. And I can be thankful for the harvest.
I’m relearning this is not about writing the plan myself. It is about trusting that this IS God’s plan. And it is a good plan. His best, for me right now. This year of rest is about thanking God for all He has brought into our lives and resting in the ways He has generously provided.
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” – Mac 11:28-30
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