Learning to Rest

My family went on an ill fated hike recently. Our new house is near the Appalachian Trail, and the section that is the closest goes straight uphill.  We had hiked this part several times, but we could never reach the top and the mystery surrounding the summit was powerful. One warm December Saturday we set off early on a mission to discover what was up there.  In my foolishness to not spoil the mystery I hadn't looked at the map... it turns out you should NEVER do that if you're hiking with kids.  Another hiker had told me there was a hikers hut (a lean to for camping), but when we asked other people on the trail about it, they only knew that it was close- which turned out to be an extremely relative distance.
We pressed on steadily up the slope, increasingly drawn to the promise of the hut with each step. After a while the kids were even excited about it.
  "You can sleep in it!"
  "It has a well!"
  "And an outhouse!" We told them.

The hike up the mountain was much longer than it looked, but when we finally made it to the top and the trail opened up into a breathtaking, isolated meadow.  This section of the trail is very close to civilization, it seemed impossible that such a beautiful place wouldnt be crammed with people. It felt like we had found the Secret Garden. The wind seemed to be whispering to us, "Stop! Enjoy yourself and rest!"

We did not rest though, in fact we didnt even stop walking.
Compelled by the hut, we hiked on. Have you seen a hut? Its kind of cool, like a secret hideout. Its also kind of a sad reminder of how civilized the trail is. And on this particular day, someone told us there was a troop of boyscouts camping there.  So not exciting.

Over an hour later, we still had not reached the hut. We realized, though, that we didnt have enough daylight left to hike back to the car.  There was no moon that night. We had run out of water.  The kids had already reached the point of exhaustion, and it was at least a 2-3 hour hike to get home.

When we got back to the meadow we finally did stop to rest (we had to or the kids would have collapsed) but the rest was tainted and stressful. Every minute spent there was a minute we would dangerously be hiking down the rocky mountain in the dark.  Where the air before was filled with invitation, now it was filled with regret.

In Luke 10:42 Jesus tells overacheiving Martha that, "...few things are needed—or indeed only one.  Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (italics mine)

My problem, like Martha's problem, is surrender.  He is ever so gently telling me to stop, and rest with him- but I am constantly tempted to overburden myself with my ambition. Can you relate? Maybe you desperately want change, but its not the right time. It could be you're wasting all your energy to be someone you're not. Sometimes its as ordinary as trying to host the perfect dinner party when your guest would rather just have your company.

I wish I fully understood why our desire to find this hut had become so strong, maybe then I would be better at fighting this temptation in other parts of my life.  It's hard for me to surrender my plans, even when it becomes clear they're crappy and stressful.  My mom wisely and gently suggests, "We dont have to do the crazy thing," because she knows the consequences. I will become stressed out, I will start to worry and doubt myself. I will snap at my kids and pass that stress on to them. I will tire myself out and ignore my responsibilities...Simply said, I will have a complete lack of peace.


Why is accepting Gods invitation to rest so hard? Many people I know are compulsively burdened by their busy lives. Almost everyone I know complains about it, but when I've pressed people to find out why they cant stop, they seem trapped in that lifestyle.  There could be many reasons, ranging from pride to a lack of intentional scheduling. But for me, its usually based in fear- fear that if I accept God's will things wont seem perfect, or my kids will suffer, or that something will be painful...its a fear that if I am not in control, everything I love on earth will fall apart.
Rest is risky. It means trusting God to take care of the things and people you hold most dear.  My heart knows I can trust Him, but my brain still wants to sort the pros and cons according to worldly wisdom.

The more time we spend with God, surrendering our will to His, the less enticing our busy plans seem.  I'm encouraged by Hebrews 4:16, "Let us therefore come boldly to the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy and find grace to help in time of need." The verse before this reminds the reader that Jesus came to earth and He understands our weakness and temptation.
I love that picture of a throne of grace that I can approach without shame, to receive everything I need to cover my lack of trust.

Paul says, "Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."  Philippians 4:6-7
Constant prayer brings peace, it guards me from the temptation to fear his rest.

I know constant prayer is hard. With 4 kids my days are naturally busy, even if I make no plans.  Finding time to pray may be one of the hardest things about being a mom.
I learned several things on the hike that day, but the lesson that stays with me the most-  more than learning to rest- was to savor God's great work.
 Just like in hiking, when the destination is my only focus,  I suffer.  The harder the trail gets, the more I watch my feet, and then I miss out on all the ordinary miracles. I can trudge through a whole week, without ever really noticing His glory or power. I want to be like David, who declared, "I will look up!" (Psalm 5:3b)

We took pictures that day, but I didnt realize until I got home that they were all of our kids being goofy.  I love their silly sense of humor, It's one of my favorite parts of parenting.  It was interesting to me that I have a few pictures of my kids IN the meadow, but none of the meadow itself.

Paul and Tim resting on the way home (Tim is actually inside the trunk)

Thomas as a moose 

Even though we all agreed it was a poorly planned outing, I (and I hope eventually my kids and husband) will always hold it as a fond memory. Even the horrible parts held joy; like the way the boys encouraged each other, how they laughed for 20mn at their dad's potty humor, and how they all learned they could do so much more than they thought.  These are the things I brought to God in thanksgiving. They remind me that when His rest brings pain, it often brings joy and promise too.
The next week we hiked to the hut from a closer trailhead and everything was much more peaceful.  I actually looked at the map, brought enough food and water, and left with enough time to get home before dark.  The hut was quite luxurious for a lean to, complete with a porch and adirondack chairs, and I actually cant wait to go camping there.

  The boys were dissapointed that the boy scouts had left, but they did love the outhouse and the well. They were also ready to forgive me for not reaching it the week before. Best of all, they loved eachother, and they found so many awesome things to be joyful about in the forest.  It was certainly not as amazing as finding the meadow, but I tried to hold onto my lessons from the week before.  I tried to savor the memories that were made along the way. I tried to remember that hikes are supposed to be peaceful, and to not push the kids too far.
I am trying. I pray that as I grow I could trust God with the things I hold dear, and enjoy the rest  that trust brings. I pray that I will be unshakeable, guarded from temptation by my constant prayers.