Enter the Rest of the Lord, and then Get Back Out and Play

“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28). When we imagine the Lord giving us rest, or when we imagine “entering into the rest of the Lord”, I think a lot of us might imagine the kind of rest in peace that happens when we die. The kind of rest that is permanent - there shall be no more tears and no more fears, no more struggle, but just blissful, endless, heavenly rest. First of all, I’m not sure that heaven - any version of it - is just lounging about doing nothing for ever and ever. And second, even if that were the rest that the Lord was talking about, it’s hardly of any practical benefit to us in the here and now. And even if we are imagining an earthly version of the Lord’s rest, I think we are thinking on permanent terms. Lord, give me rest from this cancer, and then never, ever let me get sick like this ever again. Lord, give me rest from this poverty, and never ever let me get laid off or go bankrupt again. It might be helpful to understand the kind of rest that the Lord is talking about if we think about rests in musical terms. In music, a rest is a moment of silence in the music. It does not mean that the song is over. Rather, it is an element of music that uses silence as a form of artistic expression to enhance the beauty and the majesty of the music, and, from a far more practical standpoint, it allows musicians like woodwinds, brass and singers to take a breath before the next note comes. If we love music, we don’t really want the song to end, and a rest in the music isn’t the end of the song, but the music would be worse off without it. Similarly, in life, we don’t really want the struggle to end, not entirely. If there is no struggle, then there is nothing to overcome, which means there are no opportunities for growth, no chances for us to exercise our freedom and agency, no way for us to shape or determine our destiny. But we do often need a rest - not a permanent cessation of struggle, but a temporary reprieve where we have a chance to catch our breath before we must go out and strive once more. God is the master composer. He wants to create with us a heartbreakingly beautiful symphony of our lives. He knows exactly when to give us a rest and when to encourage us to keep playing that sweet, sweet music. As we grow to trust Him and to trust ourselves and our own abilities, we will neither feel panicked when we think the music has gone on too long and we feel like we can’t play another note because our lungs are going to explode; nor, on the other hand, will we feel guilty or anxious when we have entered into the rest of the Lord because we will recognize that this rest is important for the grace and beauty of the music, neither will we begrudge the Lord when it is time to move on and play more notes. Neither the tests nor the rests of the Lord are permanent - every trial will turn into a period of rest and recovery, and every rest will give way to another trial. Note follows rest, and rest follows note. When we die it is not a great silence forever and ever, but one long, unending, celestial symphony, full of both beautiful harmonies and silent moments of rest, sung by choirs of angels who all work with God to play out His magnum opus, his marvelous work and wonder for all eternity.