I know I will need to rest this afternoon. Help me accept that it is okay to rest. I’ve been on the go so much that resting feels foreign. Why can’t I accept that rest is okay for me? Why is it still so hard?
I hear, “Be still and know I am God.” Yet, stillness challenges me. Reflecting on my recent counseling sessions, I wonder—could this struggle be tied to my childhood trauma, my identity, or my self-image?
Growing up, being busy was seen as good. Productivity was the measure of worth. Stillness, on the other hand, was not valued. Am I still measuring myself by those outdated standards?
I can do this. I have done this. I remember the silent retreat I attended for years—a whole day spent with God. My first retreat, I came with a plan, asking, “Okay, God, what’s the agenda?” Silence. I asked again. Silence. A third time. Then, I heard, “Be still and know I am God.” It was not exactly an agenda, but I rolled with it.
What happened next was unexpected. I pulled a chair under an oak tree, opened my Bible, pointed to a verse, and began to write. It was Nehemiah. I wrote about Nehemiah and leadership. That day, something shifted. (If you want to see what I wrote, look for my blog, “Leadership Lessons from Nehemiah.”)
The next year, a rapid, irregular heartbeat almost kept me from attending the retreat, but I knew I needed it. By then, I had learned not to ask for an agenda. Settling under my oak tree, I randomly opened my Bible—Joel 1:11—just four pages. I had never studied Joel. The verse I landed on said there would be no more wheat or barley.
Months later, medical tests revealed that the cause of my irregular heartbeat was a gluten allergy—wheat and barley.
God speaks when we are still. Rest is not a weakness. It is renewal. It is trust. And it is necessary. Maybe it’s time to embrace stillness, knowing that even in rest, we are fully seen, fully loved, and fully enough.
When was the last time you were still?