At Rest

“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matt. 11:28

Often while visiting my parent’s graves in our home cemetery, I’ve noticed the various epitaphs inscribed upon the many gravestones. One in particular often causes me to ponder. It simply states “At Rest”. The grave is old; the stone is worn. Yet I wonder if that person had endured such a difficult, pain-filled life that only in death could she find relief. For sure, life with all its good moments can quickly and unexpectedly turn dark and cruel. We become so heavy laden, so hurting, so worn down, that each moment is pure misery. Our heart and soul cries out for respite, for rest. Can rest truly be found? According to this single verse, the answer is YES. When Jesus spoke this, he meant what he said—literally. He offers a real invitation to a real rest that really happens when one comes to him in believing surrender. Then this phrase becomes more than just an epitaph for the dead. It becomes the testimony of the living.

Consider this invitation. “Come unto me, I will give you rest.” This does not imply an escape from all things that weary us. It would be nice, but for this to happen we would have to be taken out of this life completely. His rest is a miraculous one: a rest in them. When Jesus reached the disciples foundering boat during the raging storm, the boat immediately ceased to sink before he calmed the storm that was causing the danger! Even if he had allowed the storm to rage on, the boat would still have kept afloat and reached the other shore. Likewise, we don’t need our troubles to be banished away in order to have peace. All that’s needed is for us to come unto him and let him aboard to take the helm. Then we find rest amidst it all.

Our promised rest is “in the Lord” (Psa. 37:7) not from our struggling and burdens. Regardless of how complicated and impossible they may be, his remedy is simple, a plain and clear invitation. “Come unto me.” Imagine what this meant to those Jews who first heard him say this. No longer would they need to make those long journeys to the temple in Jerusalem lugging, tugging, and struggling with their sacrificial animals to offer them for an incomplete and temporary spiritual reprieve. He who said “Come unto me” was the fulfillment of all burden-bearing. It is not a sharing of the load but rather an unloading of the entire burden. And he is qualified to catch it. His life and his death were a denial of rest for himself so that he could have the power to give our restless souls the break we so need. He denied himself a crib at birth, choosing instead to be born in a stable and laid amid the prickly straw of the manger. He denied himself an easy upbringing in a wealthy home, choosing rather to live the hard life in the family of a poor carpenter and his wife in a nowhere town called Nazareth. Even as he gained fame throughout the country by teaching, healing, and providing for others, he chose to have no home to go to at night and no soft bed on which to sleep. During his last night in life, while everyone else including his disciples was asleep, he remained awake praying for us to the point that he sweated great drops of his blood upon the ground. His unrest was all for our rest.

This is why he can really give rest to all who come to him and how anyone can find it. You see, it only takes, and it must only take, complete confidence and surrender to him. To find rest in him, we must exercise our faith to let go and rest on him. How many of us fall into our beds at night and go to sleep never considering that the frame might give way and collapse sending us to the floor?  This has happened to me before and, boy, what a shock! Listen, our bed frames might not hold up forever, but Jesus’ bed frame will! All he wants us to do is come to him, fall upon him, and relax. REST!

It’s really not so hard after all when we learn of him. What his unrest teaches, what his promises mean, what his power can do should make it easy. And the best part: “all ye” are invited.

“At Rest” doesn’t need to only be your epitaph; it can be your testimony right now.

Come.