Come to me.

This past summer, this past year, these past few months… I’ve been in sort of a rut. I don’t know if anyone can relate to this (someone definitely can) but moving back home, graduating, losing people, finding new people, learning how to be an adult, and all the many many things that came with this year have simply been exhausting, and I haven’t been able to do many of the things that I love. Almost like, in my mind, doing the things I love doing is not allowed for simply enjoyment and rest, but should instead of some kind of torturous. If I am scrapbooking it has to be all or nothing. If I am reading, I must finish the whole book in a week or stop reading entirely. If I am writing I must be able to put out content on my blog.

This summer, I kept hearing this reoccurring theme in my spiritual walk with God. Rest. It was coming up everywhere I go. A friend mentioned how he practiced sabbath weekly. A pastor at my church back in Lynchburg was in the middle of a sermon series on rest when I visited for the weekend in June. A different friend recommended a book about eliminating hurry and seeking rest in Jesus. But it seemed like the more I heard about rest, the more exhausted I felt. How could I eliminate anything from my incredibly busy schedule and experience peace?

Even though I had a lot of good things this summer, ultimately my mind was never at rest. It was constantly running, not sure when it would catch up to the unrealistic expectations I had set for myself. And then I got a call one day. And then I unexpectedly went to camp for two weeks. While I was at camp, many seemingly sad things happened in my personal life, but since I was away, I had the time to grieve and process each one with a gracious and open heart, sitting at the Lord’s feet and in His presence.

I have struggled. I still struggle. And that’s what shows me my real, everyday need for a Savior.

Throughout all of the time reflecting on rest, one (sort of obvious) verse kept appearing and coming to mind: “Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Come. Jesus commands us to come to Him.

Following the days of camp, I wrestled with what it meant to truly be sitting at the feet of Jesus. Dwelling with Him, but first coming to Him. At a young adults retreat I went on a few weeks ago, this one verse stuck out to me from Revelation, the second to last verse of the entire Bible. “The Spirit and the Bride say, “Come.” And let the one who hears say, “Come.” And let the one who is thirsty come; let the one who desires take the water of life without price.”

Let the one who is thirsty com, and the one who desires take the water of life without price. Jesus has paid the price for our sin so that we do not have to feel any shame, any guilt, any punishment, we simply just have to come.

Another passage that includes this same language is the story of Jesus walking on water. As He approaches the disciples in their boat during a heavy storm, they do not know that it is Him. Peters calls out to him, “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water,” and Jesus simply commands, “Come.” (Matthew 14:28) Peter gets out of the boat and keeps his eyes on Jesus, but when the winds toss him and he begins to sink into his doubts, he begins to literally sink into the water. He cries out, “Lord, save me!” and Jesus reaches out His hand and takes hold of him. All because Peter trusted, and Peter came. And they got back into the boat, and the wind ceased.

This story has been told many, many times, but I had never seen the command to come to clearly. Jesus does not tell Peter to be perfect, and doesn’t expect him to be. Jesus knew that Peter would doubt, but instead of condemning him, Jesus says “Do not be afraid… come.”

All we have to do is come to the Father. Sit as His feet. And know that He is in control and will take care of the rest. Do we believe this? Do we believe that He is truly worthy of our time and our effort? Are we running to the Father again and again and again and again?

“If He dresses the lilies, in beauty and splendor, how much more will He clothe you? If He watches over every sparrow, how much more does He love you?” How much more?