Dear friend and follower of Jesus,
You were not created to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders—you were made to rest in Jesus. To lay down your burdens. To stop. To breathe. To trust.
You were not made to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You were made to rest in Him. To exhale. To lay down your burdens. To breathe.
“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” – Jesus, Matthew 11:28
These are not the words of a distant authority giving you permission to pause. They are the gentle invitation of a Shepherd who sees your exhaustion and offers Himself as your peace.
Corrie Ten Boom once said:
“Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.”
To rest in Jesus is not to withdraw from life—it is to step into it from a place of security. It’s not about escape; it’s about anchoring your soul in the presence of the One who never wearies. Rest is not laziness or indifference—it’s trust. Deep trust that He is enough, even when you feel you are not.
Resting in Jesus is choosing to believe that your limits are not liabilities—they are invitations. They remind you that you are not the Savior. You are the beloved.
Eugene Peterson paraphrases it this way:
"Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace."
Rest is not weakness. It is worship. It is the soul’s declaration: Jesus is enough—even when I am not.
Rest is not resignation. It is realignment. A holy returning to the truth that your value is not in your productivity, but in your belovedness.
C.H. Spurgeon once said:
"Rest time is not waste time. It is economy to gather fresh strength... It is wisdom to take occasional furlough. In the long run, we shall do more by sometimes doing less."
To rest in Jesus is to lay down the lie that it all depends on you.
It’s releasing the pressure to be impressive.
It’s sitting down in the presence of the One who says, “It is finished.”
Rest does not mean disengagement from life—but engagement with God.
It is not about numbing your stress—it’s about letting Jesus carry it.
To rest is to trust: He is working even when you are not.
Henri Nouwen reminds us:
“The spiritual life does not remove us from the world but leads us deeper into it.”
You don’t rest by disengaging from life—you rest by engaging with Him in the midst of it. Rest is not found in a perfect schedule or a quiet room. Rest is found in the Person of Jesus.
He is the calm in your storm.
The stillness in your chaos.
The anchor in your uncertainty.
To rest is to stop striving to prove, perform, or produce—and to let yourself be held. It is to fall into grace like a weary child into loving arms.
"We are not what we do. We are not what we have. We are not what others say about us. We are the beloved of God."
Rest is a radical act in a world that celebrates hustle. It is resistance to the constant demand for more. It is an act of faith that says:
God will meet me in stillness. He will speak in quiet. He will sustain me through surrender.
The Psalmist declares:
“Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother.” – Psalm 131:2
This is not childish restlessness—it is childlike rest.
The kind that leans into the arms of the Father without needing to prove or perform.
You don’t need to be fixed to find rest. You just need to come.
Weary? Come.
Burned out? Come.
Tired of trying to be enough? Come.
He will not turn you away. His rest is not a reward for the strong—it’s a gift for the weary.
Dane Ortlund writes:
"Jesus doesn’t meet us halfway. He comes all the way down into our pain, our fatigue, our failure. And there, He rests with us, and gives us His rest in return."
This is the astonishing beauty of grace: Jesus does not wait for you to get it together. He does not require that you climb halfway up the mountain of your mess before He agrees to draw near. No—He descends, fully and freely, into your lowest place.
Into the tired corners of your heart.
Into the ache you hide.
Into the weariness no one else sees.
He then enters our weariness—not as a spectator, but as a companion.
He rests with us.
In your burnout, He is not impatient.
In your sorrow, He is not indifferent.
In your failure, He does not flinch.
Instead, He draws close. He carries what you can’t. And in the sacred quiet of that closeness, He gives you what you were never meant to earn—His own rest.
He doesn’t just offer rest from afar—He becomes your rest from within.
He does not ask you to rise before He gives you rest. He gives rest so that you can rise.
Let this comfort you today:
Jesus is not asking you to meet Him halfway.
He is already here.
With you.
For you.
Resting beside you.
And offering His peace—right now.
A.J. Swoboda reminds us:
“Sabbath is a scheduled weekly reminder that we are not what we do; rather, we are who we are loved by.”
Friend, you are not just invited to work for Jesus—you are invited to rest in Him. You don’t earn rest. You receive it. You don’t have to deserve it. You simply accept the gift.
Rest is the space where your soul can finally catch up with your body.
Where silence becomes sacred.
Where your mind slows enough to hear His whisper again.
To rest in Jesus is to lay down anxiety and take up peace.
To surrender control and receive comfort.
To trust that He is enough for today—and tomorrow, too.
So today…
Pause.
Unclench your fists.
Turn off the noise.
Let your soul exhale.
Let His presence be your pillow.
You are not behind.
You are not alone.
You are not failing.
You are held.
His rest is not a place you earn—it is a Person who invites.
He is your Sabbath.
He is your peace.
He is your enough.
So pause.
Sit with Him.
Let the worries settle.
Let your soul lean back into grace.
Christ in you, the Prince of Peace.
You in Christ, safe and still.
This is the invitation. This is the way.
Rest in Him.