Rest

             “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

 

            The verse above was the one chosen by Biblegateway.com, and my cold has brought an interesting idea to mind. Years ago, during another battle to the death with another cold, I went to see a physician’s assistant, who told me that part of the problem with illness is that it doesn’t allow the patient to rest. The body is on high alert, at war with the virus that has invaded it, and even if one is in bed – or even sleeping – one isn’t getting the rest one needs. Rest requires more than a cessation of activity.

            Once again, I find myself thinking in terms of bodies of water. A river might be said to be at rest if the water flows in it at a rate that doesn’t stir up the sediment. There are no rapids, no whirlpools, no wild horses stampeding through it. A lake is a wide place in a river, but there are still currents. A body of water without currents is a stagnant pool. It’s not at rest, it’s dying.

          I know. Here we go again, but for me, this seems to move things forward at least a little. Rest isn’t being a stagnant pool. Rest isn’t rushing over obstacles in a frenzied hurry or spinning in place (or spinning our wheels.) Requiring ourselves to “do nothing” as rest may not be restful – or may only be restful for a certain period. We may have to work ourselves up to the level of doing nothing as rest.

          But that’s not absolutely required for rest. Right now, rest might mean reaching a point at which your jaw isn’t clenched. It might be the time you spend where your heartbeat slows. Or when you can yawn without scolding yourself,  your blood pressure drops three points, or you let yourself do something that makes you smile – not grit your teeth in a competitive leer. It’s when you do something for the activity, not to “get’er done.”