Where to go when we’re weary

Weary. Yes, that’s the feeling, isn’t it? I can’t tell you how many times my clients walk quietly into my office and take a seat.

I might ask them, “How are you feeling today?”

And they often look back at me with an apologetic smile and say, “tired.”

I get the sense they’re not talking about physical exhaustion, though this is sometimes the case. More often than not, they’re talking about being soul-tired. Bone-deep tired. The tired of carrying burdens too heavy to carry alone. The tired of carrying burdens that can only be carried by God Himself. The burden of their own brokenness, and the brokenness of others around them. The burden of being in a world violated + torn apart by sin, and the burden of a longing that it all be put right.

Do you ever feel this weariness too? Sometimes I don’t even realize that weary is what I’m carrying. I feel a weight and a heaviness hung on my heart, or a craving to go into a cozy cave + never come out, or find myself frustrated and reactive to the most minor of mishaps.

But if I take a moment to pause and ask myself the same question I ask my clients, “How are you feeling today?,” weary is so often the right word. Beneath the anger, beneath the anxiety, beneath all of it. I’m just…tired, in the deepest sense. And when I can name this, I know where to go - or rather, I know who to go to.

Jesus lovingly invites us to come to Him.

Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” - Matthew 11:28-30

Rest. Gentleness. Humility. Ease. Lightness. The medicine my soul craves when it’s carrying so much - and all of it found in Him.

How do I go to Jesus when I’m weary and burdened? It can be as simple as naming my own weariness and sharing it with Him in prayer. Maybe I share it with Him by sharing it with one of my brothers or sisters in Christ, who carry His Spirit. Either way, He hears me, and He hears you, whenever we turn towards Him. Isn’t this such a gift? He is a forever present Friend who understands our weariness. Just by sharing the burden of our weariness with Him, that burden is made lighter.

I see you, child. What a weary world indeed.

He knows what to say or not to say when we come to Him.

He knows just the medicine we need when we need it - His Presence, His Word, His Blood poured out, His Promises.

Sometimes I just need quiet compassion. A listening ear. Warm presence.

Sometimes I need the reminder that He has paid for everything - every fear-driven failure, every selfish moment of sin, every instance of unbelief. I’m no longer condemned by my own mistakes. I am covered in His blood, clothed in His righteousness - no matter what the accusing voice of my heart might say.

Other times I need the reminder that He will not leave me, nor my brothers + sisters, in our current states. He is willing and working to repair every part of us that needs repairing and will bring His work to completion. I am not where I started, and I’m not yet where I will be. They are not where they started, and they are not yet where they will be.

Still other times, I need the reminder that this is not my Home, and this is not the end. I can look forward to the place He is preparing for His Bride and be patient on the oft painful pilgrimage Home to that more heavenly country. This momentary affliction is not forever, and He is with me - us - always until the end of the age.

Whatever I may need, His gentle and humble heart is a balm on my wounds and weariness. My soul finds its much-needed rest in Jesus - the living Word.

As I rest in His Presence, I can offer more of my presence to others. As I receive the words of Life, I can speak life into others. As I behold His gentle and humble heart, my own heart is made more gentle and humble. Jesus Christ is my soft place to land. By the gift + grace of God, Christ in me can be a soft place for others to land.

When I see the grief-stricken half-smile on a client’s face, catch the broken-hearted heaviness in their eyes, or hear their troubled “tired” one more time, I remember Jesus’ invitation to “Come…” He is the perfect Rest they long for - we long for.

May we go to Jesus first, and in doing so, offer others a taste - the Holy Spirit in us drawing and calling them, little by little, closer to Him.