Resting Up

I'm sittin' on the dock of the bay
Watchin' the tide roll away, ooh
I'm just sittin' on the dock of the bay
Wastin' time
-Otis Redding, Sitting on the Dock of the Bay

Be still, and know that I am God.
Psalm 46:10


If fibromylgia has taught me anything, it’s how to rest up. Necessity is the mother of invention, and all that. Leisure is now not merely just a matter of choice, but an affair of how will I relax today? I have work clothes…and I have relaxing clothes. Not much in between. Not that there’s anything wrong with having several pairs of yoga pants from which to choose. Am I right?

Not that relaxing has ever been difficult! I’ve always enjoyed slow mornings and lazy Saturday afternoons. Sitting on a bench at the Boulevard Park watching the sunlight ripple and dance across the bay. Curling up on the couch watching scary movies is surprisingly relaxing; at least, after the credits roll. Reading novels has also always been a favorite way to truly relax. Sinking into stories, other places, other times refocuses and refreshes, bringing the things that make us human into light.

Lovely Bellingham Bay. 

When I was a teenager, relaxing also included activities: doing, moving. I used to take long leisurely bike rides around our neighborhood--around the orderly Sunnyland streets or up and down the woody trails at Cornwall Park, wherever the mood struck. I can still remember the freedom in strapping on my helmet, hopping on my bike, and pedaling under my own strength. I could go anywhere I wanted, anywhere I could bike to! It didn’t feel like work, though. That was the main thing. Movement and effort and exertion isn’t work at all when you’re strong and stretched and well-practiced. Wonderful to feel the wind in your hair, the wind in your sails, the pavement stretched out behind you and in front-miles of possibility, feeling peace in the freedom going under your own steam.

So when something like chronic pain and fatigue take away the ability to move as easily, what does that mean for leisure and movement and freedom? Because now I struggle with seemingly chronic stuckness. My lovely couch feels like a heavy anchor sometimes. These days, my movements are not made up of variety and impulse and going wherever the wind takes me-I can usually be found in only a few places. So it’s easy to feel like my world is smaller. Perhaps you feel the same way about your current season of life? My days are marked not by activity and movement and doing so much as things like survival, researching ways to feel better, and resting like a boss.

Of course, life is made up of just those things, isn’t it? Survival through tough seasons, be they seasons of work, relationships, health, choices for the future. Finding ways to have the good life through wise decisions-water, exercise, rest and sleep, healthy relationships, etc. Learning to rest well, however, is not just about getting those eight hours of recommended sleep or getting those magic eight glasses of water. It’s a holy activity for the believer and follower of Jesus.

From the beginning pages of the Bible to the ending chapters, humans are meant to be in relationship with God. Adam and Eve walked in the cool of the day with God-before sin, before the fall-this was their main activity. Not marked by seasons of toil and mere existence-but by relationship with the One who made them for His enjoyment. And then we see Jesus, a Rabbi, a teacher of influence-famous through His healing of the sick and the preaching of the Gospel-call His followers not just servants, but friends. Servants are known for what they can do, what they can produce. Friends are known for enjoyment-we choose our friends-we have things in common, we laugh at the same things, we are there for each other in different seasons.

We are known to God and loved by God not for what we can do, not for our levels of activity, not for our items checked off on a to-do list, not for how many miles we put on the bike. He delights in us and over us for our mere existence. God doesn’t care what you do. He cares about you. He cares about me. This makes my current season, and indeed, all my seasons of life, full of purpose and wonder. This makes my mere existence not so mere after all. Knowing I am loved by the Creator because He made me, not for what I can do-this changes everything. This changes my pain. This changes my evenings and weekends of rest. This changes the workday. This changes all my relationships. How I think about the past, the future.

And yet how hard it is to remember this one simple fact that transforms! You are loved. I am loved. I want to remember this-have it stamped and etched and written and burned into my identity. I want all the days I am given to be enfolded  and embraced and enveloped by the fact that no matter what is happening, what I am capable of doing or not doing, God’s undying and transformational love is truly enough.