Rest, My Daughter.

I want you to picture Jesus in front of you now.  

 

Allow the reality of Him being in the flesh, you in His overwhelming presence, and all of the potential emotions that come with that encounter. 

 

Picture His eyes as He gazes on you with an intense love we can not duplicate elsewhere.  

 

Imagine the peace and comfort that radiates from His body towards your soul.  

 

You see His eyes begin to glisten as He understands and knows fully well the pain, the exhaustion, the weariness you've been carrying.  

 

He calmly suggests, as a tear or two falls from His eyes, to "Come. Rest." 

 

You begin to weep as you release all of the burden you've chosen to carry alone, onto His lap.  

 

He doesn't speak, but gently wipes your tears away with His garment and strokes your hair with tenderness.  

 

He has all of the time in the world for you. He doesn't rush you. He doesn't have anywhere else He must be. He doesn't mindlessly check His iPhone or think ahead to what He should eat for dinner. He just allows you to rest.  

 

He stays perfectly still so as not to disturb you. All the while, He never thinks to look up from watching you sleep.  

 

And when you awake, He is still there. Still watching you. Still comforting you. He is ready to listen, ready to heal, ready to watch you rest all over again, if that is what you choose to do.  

 

All of our sorrows, anxieties, troubles, negative thoughts, hurts, pains, confusion, and overwhelming "everything's" can and will disappear in His presence (if we allow). 

 

He never gets a cramp from you resting too long on His shoulder; He never wants to see you leave His side. And, yet, we always (eventually) do.  

 

We get up, tell Him thank you, and walk away towards everything that we hate. Back towards the pain. Back towards the aloneness, the confusion, and the lies we believe more than the truth He gifts to us. 

 

He hates to see us go, but He never makes us stay.  

 

He never leaves that spot, dear daughter. He never leaves that place. He stays put so you can find Him once more, right where you [shouldn't] have left Him. 

 

Each time, you are greeted with both a smile and tears. "I've missed you," He says, with the same loving tone you've come to both crave and doubt.  

 

Never condescending, never judgmental, never projecting a "know-it-all" attitude towards your ridiculously poor choice to leave Him once again.  

 

He's there. Ready to comfort, and heal, and lavish you with His perfect love once again. You simply just need to turn around. 

 

He wipes your tears and you rest once more. He knows you won't stay long, and it hurts to think you will soon leave again, but for now, He sits. You have some resting to do. And there's nowhere else He'd rather be.  

 

For only those who believe can enter His rest. Hebrews 4:3

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