Rest In The Lord

“If you’re not moving forward, you’re moving backwards.”

I’ve heard it repeated in church several times over the last few weeks.

And if I’m honest— this phrase bothers me.

Because it’s not true.

Let me explain.

My family watches a lot of rock climbing documentaries. One of my favorites is called The Dawn Wall. It’s about rock climber Tommy Caldwell who after facing extreme personal setbacks attempts to conquer the world’s hardest climb in Yosemite National Park.

Watching him brings me to the edge of my seat. The intensity is agonizing. My nerves are buzzing as Tommy climbs thousands of feet above the ground.

But what always surprises me most about Tommy’s journey is how many periods of stillness it takes to reach the summit.

There’s stillness as he battles exhaustion.

Stillness as he questions his ability to achieve his goal.

Stillness as he gathers strength to try again.

Stillness as he carefully plans the next sequence of movement; slowly feeling out where a finger should rest, where a toe should dig, how he will gain another another inch forward.

Frankly put— there’s a lot of time spent motionless on the face of the mountain in rock climbing.

I think spirituality is a lot like this.

Sometimes life places us on the rocky face of a mountain— against trial or adversity that looked easy to overcome before it became “your mountain to climb”.

But when you begin to find your own crumbly places on the mountain— you quickly realize that you can’t fix the crumbly places when you’re trying to get up the mountain. You just need to find the next resting place that can support your weight.

Sometimes finding that sure place takes a lot of feeling around, fumbling, and moments of intense soul-searching stillness before you can move forward again.

I don’t know of anyone who gets in a car and expects to drive in one uninterrupted motion all the way to their destination.

Imagine the first time the car stopped at a red light. Imagine the driver throwing up his hands and saying “Well since we’re not going forwards, we’re going backwards. Might as well go home.”

Imagine if rock climber Tommy had said “I’ve been hanging onto this wall for a long time now and haven’t moved an inch. I must be going backwards.”

That would be ridiculous.

And untrue.

But that’s the same all or nothing mentality we buy into when we swap the peace-giving words of Jesus for the troubled maxims of the world.

No where in the scriptures did Jesus ever say, “If you’re not moving forward you’re going backwards.”

What He did say was:

“Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest.”

and

“Be still and know that I am God.”

Just as stops and rest are part of virtually every aspect of our physical lives— I think they are vital to spiritual life as well.

Our physical bodies can’t grow without rest, and neither can our spirits.

Maybe that’s why the invitation to rest in the Lord appears so often throughout the scriptures. Maybe that’s why God set apart a sabbath— an entire day every week specifically for rest.

When I was going through a very difficult season one of my friends messaged me and shared this profound insight:

“Faith is like a seed and once planted it really does grow— but it’s not an evergreen seed— it’s an oak tree. When oak trees loose their leaves they look dead.

But they aren’t.

Sometimes faith is like that. It’s not always beautiful and flourishing— sometimes it’s just surviving.

We don’t lose faith in trees when they lose their leaves, just like the Lord doesn’t lose faith in us.”

If you’re in a season of feeling tired, heavy, or completely spiritually burned out— rest in the Lord.

It’s okay to pause and breathe on the road of discipleship.

You’re not going backwards.

Sometimes just holding to the iron rod will take all your strength.

That’s okay.

If you can’t take even one more step forward— wait on the side of the road for the Lord. He will renew your strength.

Personally I’m in another waiting and surviving period.

I feel like a leafless tree.

It feels hard to take another step.

It feels like I’m stuck on the face of the mountain. Again.

But my eyes are fixed on Jesus Christ and I know that I’m not going backwards even if I’m not presently moving forward. I won’t surrender how far I’ve come just because I need rest now.

When I find my footing, I’ll take another step forward.

And when I need rest, I’ll rest.

And maybe I’m learning that this is what it means to climb a mountain with the Lord.

How can He guide me if I’m too busy spinning my wheels and burning myself out to hear?

I’ve been pondering the Savior’s words and deeply trying to understand what it means to rest on the Lord.

What have you come to understand about resting in the Lord? Thoughts?