For weeks, I’ve been praying for more of Jesus’ love—to experience it, to be filled with it, to overflow with it toward others. For weeks, we’ve been studying Jesus in the Gospel of Mark and I’m amazed that the crucifixion was only part of Jesus’ suffering. The flesh of Jesus endured constant jostling by the smelliest, dirtiest, nastiest people in the land (so much so that he didn’t know he was touched by a woman who had been vaginally bleeding for 12 years); suddenly, I realize how much I hate to be touched! I don’t even like to be bumped around by people I married and gave birth to and who have showered every day! And I’m claustrophobic!

It’s Labor Day and hopefully this finds you resting. Isn’t it funny that we celebrate work by resting? In fact, I think that’s exactly what the Sabbath was intended to be: a weekly celebration and enjoyment of all the things we accomplished in our labors throughout the week. This particular Labor Day is just plain bizarre. It’s the beginning of a season of a hundred decisions a day, from the schedule we keep at home or work, to how we’re going to school our children. Also, it’s an election year, and the Labor Day of election years always marks the beginning of the final campaign sprint to Election Day on November 4th. The insanity surrounding all of it simply goes without saying. It’s nuts; nothing feels normal. It feels like everything and everyone is reactionary and nothing can be planned. And yet our God loves loves loves to give His people rest. There are hundreds of verses related to His desire for our rest, but I’ll lay out two to help us decide today to rest rather than react.

God often reminds me that He is God and I am not. He does it in many ways; through His Word, through circumstances, through discipline. Sometimes it’s a hard-learned lesson, but He is always kind to show us Who He is, and who we are in relation to Him. I think one of the kindest ways He does this is through creation. 

Over the years, I’ve come to recognize that for me, often, simply being reminded that He’s the Creator of it all is what causes me to trust Him most—especially with the things I just can’t comprehend. When I’m confronted with things about His character or in Scripture that are “too wondrous for me to know” (Job 42:3), it’s the fact of creation that brings me back to trust.

His love is not a modest love, its a fierce love that obliterated the boundary of His holiness to draw us into Him in Christ. To let Him see us in our imperfect states, to hear our voices and their imperfect thoughts, to share our feelings in their imperfect forms is the only appropriate response to this kind of love pursuit. It’s surrender. 

We surrender so that He can lavish us with His love, remind us we are forgiven, wash us white as snow. 

It was this realization that God wants to be with me in all of it, that simply letting Him have access to all of the depths of me somehow results in fully falling into Him limp but full of life, and suddenly my lungs open and the universe reveals wide open spaces to breathe.