Dear one,
Last week you might recall that I sought to share with you the possible derivations of the English word “rest,” after which I turned to the Greek word, ἀναπαύω, regularly translated as “rest.” By my doing so, I suggested that rest is a “ceasing from” or a “stopping altogether.” I did not employ those exact words, but that was my intent.
Moreover, given the view of “rest” as cessation, I then directed you to those frequently cited words:
“Come unto me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matthew 11:28-29).
Last week as now, I would still encourage you to listen carefully to what you hear in those words regarding rest; but apart from “rest,” Jesus’ words also invite the image of a yoke—whether a single or doubt yoke is not clear.
However, in the aftermath of my last blog, a further thought came to my heart/ mind: On the one hand, Jesus invites “rest,” but His rest is not necessarily a cessation or stoppage; rather, His rest means our being yoked together with Him (i.e. a double yoke), or our wearing a yoke (i.e. a single yoke), especially shaped and fitted to our individual uniqueness. Thus this “rest” is not my willful determination to stop; rather, it is my relating closely to Him as I move, since “living” always means movement and/or action.
On the other hand, Jesus’ invitation to rest does mean stopping, that is, it means my ceasing to determine what and when I must stop. Here too, as so often, it means my relinquishing control. For any given day, He becomes the One, who sets the pace, sets the load, and sets the fields to be plowed. In either instance, day-by-day it means my relating personally with Him.
Not at all ironically, upon one occasion Jesus invited His disciples to come away and rest (ἀναπαύω, Mark 6:31), and I believe they received rest, although not as they had expected. Instead of lounging about and eating dates and peeled grapes, they observed Jesus as He cared for thousands, only to find themselves caring for the same. Seemingly rest came as they listened to and served with Him.
I wonder: Might we too find rest as we listen to and serve with Him?
Resting,
Stan