Rest at the Cross

There’s a certain kind of tiredness that no amount of sleep can touch.

Where does it come from, this weariness?


it’s the news – a steady stream of sadness that drips drips drips till you’re leaking soundbites and you can’t tell what matters and what’s just noise

it’s polite chit-chat and stabs behind the cup-cakes

it’s the magazine articles that tell you to be yourself and what that self should be

it’s the queue at the post office and the gridlock on the motorway

it’s the spam in your inbox and the printer that’s permanently jammed

it’s the stained carpet and the painted-on smile

it’s leaves on the track and a body on the line.  (We apologise for the delay to your journey).

it’s the sin that encircles; round and round and round and you’re sick of it but you won’t stop because there was a time when it worked

it’s the little compromises that don’t matter (except that they do)

it’s trying and failing and trying again because you don’t know what else to do

it’s the pretence

the expectations

the perfectionism

the fear

the world out there


it’s the heart in here.


Most of the time you don’t notice it.  You stay busy and you keep your head down and you don’t think too much and you don’t look too deep.

but occasionally – something shatters the glass.  A death or a phone call or a conversation you hadn’t planned. A full-stop. A bullet to the chest.  And as you fall,  you realise





are. You’ve stopped now

and you haven’t got it in you to get back up.


what do you do with the tiredness that a million mini-breaks won’t fix?


or, maybe that’s the problem. Looking for the fix. Doing more to make it right. Reaching for ‘if only’ rest… that’s always out of reach.

‘If only you do this…you’ll be able to stop’.

Truth is, “if only” rest is no rest at all. It’s old covenant thinking; – six days of labour and collapsing on the seventh. It’s working towards rest – and never finding it.

But there is a rest that’s free and unconditional. Look at what Jesus does when he brings the new covenant.  He labours for us. Then He says “It’s finished.” He shifts the day of rest so that it’s no longer at the end of the week. Now it’s at the beginning. Not something we work towards: a gift that’s already ours.

On Easter Sunday, He comes to those who are downcast, ashamed and weary – and He says “Peace.” He breaks through our locked doors and says “I will give you rest.” (Matt 11:28).

“But I don’t know how to…”

He does.

“But I’m so sinful…”

He’s paid.

“But I can’t do it…”

That’s the point.


Hear again these words from the Lord. You might not feel them – but allow them to be true.

Beyond your weariness, His work is enough. It is finished.

For I will satisfy the weary soul, and I will replenish every languishing and sorrowful person.

Jeremiah 31: 25


(Originally posted here)

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