The Loveliness of the Commonplace

Part 3

“Come to Me. I will give you rest.”
Matthew 11:28

Rest.

Such a simple, common word. Such a common human need. Such a common, human
experience. . . but not always within our grasp.

Remember an experience when you were utterly exhausted. You could hardly put one foot infront of the other, because your strength was gone. There was nothing left in you to give.

Many in our world have lost the experience of true “rest.” Stress, pressure, emotional turmoil . . . so much a part of our lives in a world that is full of activity, effort, fear, insecurity.

Jesus certainly faced that common human reality while He walked in our world. He would not have experienced our earthly, human limitations in Heaven’s Realm before He chose to come in human form and live the human experience. He spoke of rest. He took rest. Even in a boat during a violent storm, His human body needed to sleep.

But “sleep” is not necessarily “rest.” We may be able to sleep. . . but wake up with the same
emotional turmoil, mental anguish, heart-aches, and spiritual emptiness that drains Life from our very beings. We carry emotional and mental weights that are too heavy to bear.We take on burdens that slow our walk to a crawl. Or to a halt.

Jesus’ simple, open Invitation is exactly what our exhausted, empty souls need. Rest. Not just a physical “rest”. Not just a mental “rest.” Not just an emotional “rest.” But a rest that only He can give. An all-encompassing rest that touches far beyond the physical need. It touches our very soul.

I will never forget an experience I had in the Sahara Desert, in the refugee camps in July one summer. Temperatures were +120 degrees Fahrenheit, with no breeze. I dragged myself into a tent and laid on a thin rug covering the sand. Completely exhausted, dehydrated, hot, and fully wrapped in my traditional covering, I fell asleep. A few hours later, I slowly began to awaken, with a soft awareness of gentle hands holding one foot, and then the other, tenderly wiping each with a soft, wet cloth. Without opening my eyes, the gentle care brought me back to awareness and the sensation of tender hands and a soft, wet cloth tenderly removing the dusty, gritty sand that coated my cracked, sore feet. First one. Then the other. I was having a little taste of Heaven on that desert floor! My senses were being awakened. . . my thoughts began to engage, . . . my exhausted mind sensed “life” returning, and my heart was aware of God’s gentle love and care . . . through the hands of a loving friend.

That simple, tender act of kindness . . . to the most unseemly, battered part of my body, brought an unmatched sense of love, care, soothing, and comfort like nothing I had experienced before. It continues to be one of those moments that I will never forget.

A worn basin, cool water, a humble cloth, and gentle hands. When offered into God’s Hands,
they bring healing that goes deeper than our eyes can see.