How to Truly Rest in God

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing. 
2     He makes me lie down in green pastures, 
he leads me beside quiet waters, 
3     he refreshes my soul. 
He guides me along the right paths 
    for his name’s sake. 
4 Even though I walk 
    through the darkest valley,[a] 
I will fear no evil, 
    for you are with me; 
your rod and your staff, 
    they comfort me. 

5 You prepare a table before me 
    in the presence of my enemies. 
You anoint my head with oil; 
    my cup overflows. 
6 Surely your goodness and love will follow me 
    all the days of my life, 
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord 
forever. 
Psalm 23 NIV 

I sit on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the dresser—no, through the dresser. My eyes are glazed over; I’m not really looking at anything. My shoulders sag, and my whole body feels as though I’m a wilting plant in need of sun and water.   

I’m exhausted.   

I’ve been saying yes to all the things that I can’t say no to — family obligations, mommy duties, household upkeep, and work deadlines. And then there are the yeses I say for my own well-being — therapy, life-giving friendships, time alone, church, mentoring. Throw in a celebration for someone’s birthday, a coffee date with a friend I haven’t seen in a while, or a visiting family member, and the calendar seems to explode at the seams, with no wiggle room even to breathe.   

And running in the back of my mind is the low-humming anxiety that I’ll drop the ball somewhere and won’t realize it until it’s too late. I can almost sense failure lurking around the corner, waiting for that ball to drop.   

I close my eyes and take some deep breaths. The slow, deliberate breathing wills my body and mind to settle down. I want to curl up like a baby and be carried away to somewhere quiet so I can rest, and closing my eyes, I imagine God doing this for me. I don’t have to hold or control everything so tightly when I’m held in His arms. I can relax. I can truly rest.   

I lie on my bed, where I hold my palms open to my sides and close my eyes again. By habit, these verses come to mind — the words embedded into the deepest parts of me since my childhood days of memorizing Bible verses for Sunday school: “He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul” (Ps. 23:2–3).  

Imagining the water, the green, it feels like the space I’m in expands. I don’t have to be controlled by my to-do list. I don’t have to do all the things or meet with all the people, even if all those things would have been good or beneficial for me.   

I still need to do the things I need to do, but I look at the calendar with fresh eyes. I cancel meetings where I can. I choose only the absolutely necessary things to get done for the week. I talk with my husband about all the responsibilities I carry, and we hash out how we can better share the mental and physical loads.   

In small but decisive ways, I simplify my life. And more than that, I find rest for my soul in the sliver of the day where I pause to breathe, to imagine, and to say yes to God’s invitation to come and receive His rest.