Transparent Christian Magazine

Oftentimes I come to Jesus with an ache in my soul. Whether early in the morning or late at night, something in me sighs, tired and hurt by the things the world throws at me.

I live my day-to-day life, and the conditions are harsh. So often I move so fast and do so much that I don’t realize how much the ache has grown. It’s only when I stop, close my eyes, imagine my head upon his chest and breathe deep that I realize – and I release.

And in a place of extreme vulnerability, the comfort is sweetest. It is because of pain and weariness that I delight all the more in His goodness, but oh that I would come to His chest more often.

I learned how to rest the hard way. To some, this will sound very strange, for to them rest is not something that even has to be learned. It is a welcome break, something greatly enjoyed. Some may have to kick themselves to do anything but rest.

But others of us actually like to work – or even more, to be praised for that work. That’s the clincher: the painstaking discipline and the many sacrifices along the way are not fun, but it’s all worth it for the future accolades.

See, I am an achiever. At work, my boss had us take a “motivational type” quiz, to see what really gets each of us going, and I fit squarely in the achiever row. This means, as I’ve said, that I like to know I’m getting things done and I like to know it’s noticed. While there are obvious benefits to this type of mindset (success, for instance), there are pitfalls, as well.

I was a sophomore in college and loved life: an honors student, zealous in faith, being raised up in leadership in our church college group, and active socially, as well. And I ran hard.

Four to five hours of sleep a night, not always regular meals, fasting too frequently – and I thought that was how God wanted me to live.

However, ends up I ran too hard. Not even two months into first semester, I caught pneumonia. Two months later, as I was just beginning to recover, I found out I had mononucleosis. Crash and burn, literally. For the next year I was sick on and off, and I’d never really been sick my entire life, unless you count the flu and sinus infections.

Why is it that we pay attention to all the other commandments but often forget the one about Sabbath? We so quickly forget our limits.

A wise adviser told me not to read too much into it, not to think I fully caused myself to get sick. We sometimes take ourselves too seriously anyway, don’t we? But regardless of how much my unhealthy lifestyle had to do with it, I know without a doubt God used my sickness to get my attention. I needed to learn to rest and I needed to understand grace.

That’s one of the pitfalls of achievers I mentioned earlier: We have a hard time grasping grace because what we know best is how to perform. Grace says you don’t have to do a thing, and for years my head would always say, “But yes I do! I can’t just sit around and do nothing! There are people to be saved, a world to be changed, money to be made” and on and on and on. I’d heard preachers say, “God loves you just the way you are, just where you are,” but it wasn’t until I was sick that I learned this truth in my heart, not just my head.

Soon after I came down with mono, our college pastor preached on the father heart of God. He talked about his own children and how he loved to watch them sleep. He emphasized that at these moments – some of his favorites, his kids weren’t doing anything to make him love them. They just were, and they just were his.

On hearing this, I began to weep as I realized I didn’t understand that kind of love, that kind of grace. God loves me just as much when I’m lying in bed with a 102 degree fever as he does when I’m preaching the gospel in a foreign nation. That’s a big kind of love – a high and wide and deep and long kind of love – and the kind I want to know more and more everyday.

Now almost four years later I’m still learning to lean on the seemingly-simple truth of God’s sufficiency. I’d say I’m still an achiever by nature, but I’m learning to live in the boundaries the Lord sets for me. Grace still confounds, but the mystery keeps me seeking, and out of gratitude I learn to run at His pace for me, for His glory and not my own.

Allie