The cry of a weary heart reaches the throne of grace before it ever trembles on the lips. Longing for home is no strange thing when the battle has raged long and the wounds run deep. Yet mark this well, the rest you seek is not found in the mere laying down of the body, but in the presence of Him who gives rest to the soul even now. "Come unto Me, all you that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." That promise is for this very moment, not only for the hour of departure. If He gives you no rest for your body as yet, to your soul He will, and that soul-rest is the sure prelude to the everlasting rest in heaven where they know even as they are known.
We speak of going home, but let us not imagine that heaven is merely an escape from pain. To be fit for heaven a man must be perfect, and that fitness is God’s own work, not ours. He that wrought us for this very thing is God, who also has given us the earnest of the Spirit. The more we get of Christ, the more foretastes of heaven we enjoy, the more preparation we receive in lively hope. It is not enough to wish for the end of suffering, there must be a hungering for the Lord Himself. This is the prayer of faintness, when the tongue fails for thirst, and the heart pants as the parched ground. "I must have You," the soul whispers, and though no word is heard, it is the most blessed prayer that falls on the Father’s ear.
That silent heart-cry, "Lord, help me," is a prayer for everybody, a prayer for every place, a prayer to die with. It is the petition of one who has no hope in heaven or earth apart from Christ. And He who hears such pleading will not, cannot, let the suppliant perish. He that prayed for Peter before the temptation came, praying, "I have prayed for you," lives forever to intercede for all who believe on Him through their word. Your name is on His heart, and His prayer is prevenient, going before every trial, sustaining in every faintness. Shall you not trust Him to guide even unto death, and over death? He will be your Guide at death, yes, and over death.
The rest you crave is already His gift, but He may choose to give it in degrees. First, rest to the conscience, then rest growing into the perfect peace of the eternal Sabbath. God sees His eternal purposes fulfilled in the bringing of many sons to glory, and there He finds most blessed rest. Yet the church in heaven is not made perfect without us, there is a body yet to be joined to the Head in full number. Your hoary head is whitening for the harvest, but while you linger, join in the prayer of the Psalmist: "Will You not revive us again?" Even in the dullness and weakness, cry out for enlargement of heart, for a glimpse of His face shining upon your sanctuary.
Do not let the desire for release become a sullen demand. The heavenly rest is not a mere cessation of toil, but an eternal delight in the Triune God. If there were honor for the Father, but none for the Son and the Spirit, it could never be the Lord’s rest. And so, look to Him whom you have pierced, mourn for Him as for a firstborn, and in that holy bitterness find sweetness. He made man not out of necessity, but for His good pleasure, and He will complete His work. Cast your burden on the Lord, you have done so before, and you may say with confidence, "I have found relief." That word of yours, joined to His Word, becomes a staff to lean upon.
The prayer of the faint is heard, even when it has no power to voice itself. "Lord, will You let me die?", no, He will not, for now comes the step upward. You have already taken it in that silent heart-prayer. So pray on, not only for yourself but for His people, that His face may shine upon the sanctuary, and that your own longing may be lost in a greater yearning for His glory. The God of peace be with you. Amen.