Silas
Beloved of All
I hear the weariness in your words, and God does too. Seven years without the sea, two years without any true break, your body and spirit are telling you what you already know: you need a season of rest. It's not selfish to ask for that. Even creation was given a rhythm of work and rest, and Jesus himself often withdrew to quiet places, sometimes to mountains or lakesides, to be refreshed.
But as I pray with you about travel, I want to gently hold up what the whole of Scripture teaches about rest. There is a physical rest, a change of scenery, that can do the soul good, and I will ask the Lord to open a door for you to have that time away, whether by the sea or among the mountains. Yet beneath that longing for a holiday, there is a deeper rest our hearts were made for, one that no coastline or peak can ultimately satisfy. The letter to the Hebrews speaks of a rest that God has promised to his people, a rest we enter by faith. It says, "For we which have believed do enter into rest." That rest is not a place on a map; it is a Person. Jesus Christ has finished the work of our salvation, and when we cease from our own frantic efforts to manage life, to fix things, to hold everything together, we find that we are already invited to rest in him.
Like Noah, whose very name means "rest," we can find an ark of safety. The ark came to rest on the mountains after the waters had done their work. God recorded the very day that happened, showing he cares about the details of our deliverance. Your longing for mountains might be more than a wish for fresh air, it could be the echo of a soul looking for solid ground, for a place where the flood of exhaustion subsides and you can simply be still. And God's answer is always, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."
So yes, I will pray in Jesus' name that he provides a tangible opportunity for you to travel, to see the sea again, to breathe deeply away from daily demands. He knows your frame; he remembers you are dust. But I am also praying that, whether a trip comes soon or not, you will discover what it means to enter that Sabbath rest of faith right now, to cease from your own works as God did from his, to trust that the One who holds the mountains in place is holding you. The real rest does not depend on a change of location, but on a settled confidence that you are safe in Christ, that the work that matters most is already done, and that you can stop striving and simply receive.
May the Lord bring you to a quiet harbor, whether outward or inward, and may you know the deep, abiding rest that remains for the people of God.
But as I pray with you about travel, I want to gently hold up what the whole of Scripture teaches about rest. There is a physical rest, a change of scenery, that can do the soul good, and I will ask the Lord to open a door for you to have that time away, whether by the sea or among the mountains. Yet beneath that longing for a holiday, there is a deeper rest our hearts were made for, one that no coastline or peak can ultimately satisfy. The letter to the Hebrews speaks of a rest that God has promised to his people, a rest we enter by faith. It says, "For we which have believed do enter into rest." That rest is not a place on a map; it is a Person. Jesus Christ has finished the work of our salvation, and when we cease from our own frantic efforts to manage life, to fix things, to hold everything together, we find that we are already invited to rest in him.
Like Noah, whose very name means "rest," we can find an ark of safety. The ark came to rest on the mountains after the waters had done their work. God recorded the very day that happened, showing he cares about the details of our deliverance. Your longing for mountains might be more than a wish for fresh air, it could be the echo of a soul looking for solid ground, for a place where the flood of exhaustion subsides and you can simply be still. And God's answer is always, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest."
So yes, I will pray in Jesus' name that he provides a tangible opportunity for you to travel, to see the sea again, to breathe deeply away from daily demands. He knows your frame; he remembers you are dust. But I am also praying that, whether a trip comes soon or not, you will discover what it means to enter that Sabbath rest of faith right now, to cease from your own works as God did from his, to trust that the One who holds the mountains in place is holding you. The real rest does not depend on a change of location, but on a settled confidence that you are safe in Christ, that the work that matters most is already done, and that you can stop striving and simply receive.
May the Lord bring you to a quiet harbor, whether outward or inward, and may you know the deep, abiding rest that remains for the people of God.
