Memorial Day weekend brings a strange mix of emotions for me. There’s gratitude for the freedoms we enjoy because others sacrificed so much. There’s reflection as we remember those who served faithfully. And for our family, there’s also a deep exhale that comes after a very full convention season.
Over the last several weeks, we’ve watched God move in incredible ways through Teach Them Diligently events. We’ve prayed with weary parents and listened to testimonies of marriages being restored and homeschool visions being renewed. Honestly, the stories coming out of this season have blessed our hearts more than I can even express.
And now, for a few precious days, our whole family is together on a small island in South Carolina that has become a yearly refuge for us. No big agenda or rushing from one thing to another. Just time together, quiet mornings, salty air, laughter, long conversations, and space to breathe.
And maybe because of all of that, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about rest.
Recently, inside TTD365, there was a really thoughtful conversation about Sabbath rest. It got my attention because if I’m honest, rest doesn’t come naturally to me.
Maybe you can relate.
I always feel like I should be doing something. There’s always one more email to answer, one more thing to organize, one more burden to carry, one more person to help. And because so many of us love deeply and serve sacrificially, we often convince ourselves that rest is selfish or lazy.
But Scripture never presents rest as laziness.
In fact, God built rest into creation itself.
Before there was sin, before there was exhaustion, before there was burnout, there was rhythm. Work and rest. Productivity and pause. Labor and worship.
And when God established the sabbath for His people, it wasn’t because He needed them to stop working. It was because they needed to stop working.
Jesus reminds us of that truth when He says:
“Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)
Not more striving or pressure.
Not more performance.
Rest.
I think sometimes we imagine rest as something that will magically happen once life calms down. But the truth is, rest almost never happens accidentally. It has to be planned intentionally.
If you want a sabbath day, you prepare for it all week long.
If you want a peaceful family culture, you have to build margin into your days.
If you want a vacation that restores your soul instead of exhausting you, you have to decide ahead of time that not everything will get done.
That’s hard for people like me.
Because underneath my resistance to rest is often something uglier than busyness: self-reliance.
Somewhere deep down, I start believing the world can’t keep spinning unless I’m constantly holding it together. (Though I would never actually SAY that!)
And that’s simply not true.
Rest forces us to acknowledge that God is God and we are not.
It reminds us that our worth isn’t measured by our productivity. It teaches our children that peace matters more than performance. It humbles us enough to release burdens we were never meant to carry in the first place.
One of the images God has often brought to my mind is of farmers sometimes leaving land fallow for a season. Eventually, soil that is constantly worked stops producing well. The harvest grows weaker and weaker until the ground has time to recover.
I think many of us are living like overworked fields.
We keep pushing and producing.
Carrying and serving.
And eventually our souls become brittle.
Our patience grows thin.
Our joy fades.
Our relationships suffer.
Even our ministry becomes harder when we operate from a deficit rather than an overflow.
God didn’t design us to live that way.
And honestly, one of the greatest gifts we can give our children is not a perfectly managed home or a flawlessly executed homeschool plan. It’s a parent who understands how to rest in Christ.
A parent who laughs.
Who plays.
Who sits still long enough to listen.
Who trusts God enough to stop striving for a moment.
That kind of rest shapes a home in beautiful ways.
This weekend, as our family walks the beach together, shares meals around crowded tables, and enjoys the simple gift of being together, I’m reminded that these pauses matter. They aren’t interruptions to the important work. They are part of that work.
Because rest reorients us.
It reminds us Who God is.
It reminds us who we are.
And it reminds us what actually matters.
So if you’re weary today, maybe this is your reminder that rest isn’t weakness. It’s worship.
Not because we’ve earned it, but because we desperately need the peace only Christ can give.
And maybe the best thing you can do this week is simply slow down long enough to receive it.
