Daily Devotions

 

“I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.
Do not be like the horse or the mule, which have no understanding
but must be controlled by bit and bridle or they will not come to you.” – Psalm 32:8–9 (NIV)

Sometimes, even with the best maps or GPS, we still take a wrong turn.
We get lost, confused, disoriented. Eventually, we do the humbling thing—pull over and ask someone for directions.

Spiritually, Psalm 32 captures that moment of humility—when we stop relying on our own sense of direction and ask God to lead us.

In these verses, God gives us more than just directions—He gives us presence.
He doesn’t bark orders from a distance. He promises to instruct, teach, and counsel, all with His loving eye on us. This is the care of a watchful Father, not a controlling master.

But then comes the caution:

“Don’t be like the horse or mule.”
In other words, don’t be so stubborn that God has to drag you toward what's best. He doesn't want to control you by force—He wants to lead you by love.
God’s guidance is not for the resistant, but for the willing.

It reminds me of something the late songwriter Rich Mullins once said when asked how to discover God’s will. He replied with characteristic honesty and wit:

“God’s will usually isn’t that complicated. Love God with all your heart, soul, and mind. Love your neighbour as yourself. Start there.
If God wants something unusual—like sending you to Egypt—He’ll make it obvious. You might even get sold into slavery by eleven jealous brothers.”

His words are lighthearted, but the truth is solid:
We often look for specific answers when God is calling us back to simple faithfulness.
Instead of obsessing over perfect decisions or future outcomes, we’re invited to love well—God and neighbour. When our hearts are aligned with that calling, the rest becomes clearer in time.

So maybe you’re facing a choice today. A fork in the road. A season of waiting.
Before rushing to find the next signpost or answer, ask yourself:

Which path helps me love God more?
Which one helps me serve others more freely?

That may just be the compass you need.

Prayer:

Lord,
We come before You with hearts that long to be led—not forced, but shaped by Your love.
Thank You for being our steady guide in seasons of confusion and our strength in times of decision.
Teach us, counsel us, and keep Your loving eye on us.
Help us not to resist You, but to walk with trust and joy in Your way.
Lift the burdens that weigh us down, and let Your peace lead us forward.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen

Daily Devotions

For you are my rock and my fortress; for your name’s sake you lead me and guide me.” – Psalm 31:3 (ESV)

Some verses comfort us. Others call us forward.
Psalm 31:3 does both.

David doesn’t just describe God as his shelter—his rock, his fortress—he also asks to be led. He’s not only seeking protection from the storm, but guidance through it.

And he asks this not for personal ease or convenience, but “for your name’s sake.”

That small phrase carries deep meaning. It reminds us that God's guidance is not random or reluctant. It flows out of His very nature. He leads because He is faithful. Because He is good. Because He is love.

When God leads, He doesn’t do so coldly or from a distance. He guides with purpose, with tenderness, with unwavering strength.

It brings to mind a story told among some Native American peoples. When a boy came of age—around 13—he was blindfolded and left alone in the forest overnight. It was a test of courage. Alone with only the sounds of the wild and the darkness pressing in, he had to sit through the night with no reassurance.

But when morning broke and the boy removed his blindfold, he saw what had been true all along: just a few feet away, his father had been standing guard through the night, bow in hand, watching over him.

The boy was never truly alone.

That’s how God leads.

Even when we can’t see Him—even when the way is confusing and fear surrounds us—He is there. Quiet, maybe. Unseen, perhaps. But always faithful.

David trusted not just in God’s protection, but in His direction. And so can we.

The One who shelters us also leads us. Not aimlessly, but with wisdom.
Not sporadically, but for His name’s sake—because His name is trustworthy, true, and strong.

So if you find yourself unsure of the path ahead today, remember this:

The hand that guards you is the same hand that guides you.
You are not alone in the dark.

Prayer:

Heavenly Father,
You are my rock and my fortress—my safe refuge in every storm.
Even when I cannot see You, I trust that You are near.
Lead me, not just to safety, but to purpose.
Guide me for Your name’s sake—because You are faithful and good.
Help me walk in peace, knowing Your unseen hand holds me fast.
In Jesus’ name,

Amen. Amen.

Daily Devotions

Teach Me Your Path

Scripture:
“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths.” – Psalm 25:4 (ESV)

As we continue to reflect on seeking direction in life, Psalm 25:4 offers us a humble and honest prayer:

“Make me to know your ways, O Lord; teach me your paths.”

In a world overflowing with decisions—many of them urgent, complex, and unclear—this verse reorients us. It reminds us not to rely solely on our own understanding but to seek God's direction first. For today’s Christian, this is more than a verse—it is a posture of the heart.

Whether we are navigating relationships, family, career, or calling, the invitation remains the same:

Pause. Ask. Listen. Follow.

True guidance isn’t found in choosing what merely seems right; it comes when we allow God to shape our desires and decisions, so they align with His greater purpose. What makes this request so powerful is its foundation: God’s loving willingness to guide.

King David didn’t cry out to a distant deity but to a compassionate, present Lord—one who delights to lead His people in paths of peace, purpose, and promise.

A Story of Quiet Faithfulness

A young woman, full of passion and prepared to serve overseas as a missionary, was stopped short when tragedy struck. Her sister died suddenly, leaving four young children behind. Grieving but steadfast, she gave up her plans and raised the children as her own.

She mourned the dream she had laid down, believing her opportunity to serve God in mission was lost.

But years later, something astonishing happened. One by one, each of the four children came to her, saying,

“I feel God is calling me to be a missionary.”

In the end, not one, but four missionaries went out—because one woman walked the path God placed before her with quiet, faithful obedience. What once felt like sacrifice was revealed to be divine multiplication.

A Prayer in Poetry

From George Herbert’s hymn “Teach Me, My God and King” (1633):

Teach me, my God and King,
in all things Thee to see,
and what I do in anything,
to do it as for Thee.

All may of Thee partake;
nothing so small can be,
but draws, when acted for Thy sake,
greatness and worth from Thee.

If done t'obey Thy laws,
e’en servile labours shine;
hallowed is toil, if this the cause,
the meanest work divine.

Daily Devotions

Forks in the Road

“Stand at the crossroads and look; ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.”
— Jeremiah 6:16 (NIV)

There are moments in life that feel like forks in the road — times when we are called to pause, reflect, and choose. These decisions may involve relationships, vocation, retirement, moving house, or adjusting to a new season of life. Some forks appear with loud urgency; others arrive quietly, almost unnoticed — yet they carry great weight.

Jeremiah's words offer three pieces of wisdom for anyone standing at such a crossroads:

1. Stand and Look.
   Don’t rush. Take a breath. Be still. Clarity doesn’t always come in motion. In God’s timing, revelation is often found in the pause.

2. Ask for the Ancient Paths.
   Look to the wisdom of Scripture, to the stories of those who have journeyed in faith before us. The “ancient paths” are not outdated—they are time-tested, rooted in trust, obedience, and grace.

3. Walk in the Good Way.
   Once the way is made clear—take it. Don’t just admire the path. Don’t linger too long in indecision. Choose what is right and step forward with courage, even if the future remains partly hidden.

It’s in walking that we find rest—not in standing still forever.

Sometimes, we look back and realise that what seemed like a detour was in fact God’s design. Or what appeared to be a wrong turn led us into deeper dependence on Him. God can redeem every path for His purpose.

Prayer:

God of every crossroads,
when I stand before a fork in the road,
teach me to pause and seek Your guidance.
Give me wisdom beyond my own insight,
patience when clarity takes time,
and courage to walk the way that is good.
Help me to trust that even when I cannot see the full path,
Your Spirit will go before me, beside me, and behind me.
Amen.

 

Daily Devotions

He Leadeth Me: A Reflection on Retirement and Direction

Psalm 5:8 – "Lead me, O Lord, in your righteousness because of my enemies; make your way straight before me."

As I look toward what Methodism affectionately calls “Sitting Down,” my thoughts have turned to the idea of direction.

Though I will no longer hold pastoral charge of a church, I remain, by God's grace, a Presbyter in Word and Sacrament. Ministry is not something we retire from — it is part of who we are, not merely what we do. So I find myself wondering: where next? How now do I listen for God's direction?

The tools of navigation have changed across my life. I remember a time when, if you were planning a journey, you might write to the AA or RAC and they would send you a carefully plotted route on paper. Later came downloadable maps. Now, of course, we turn to GPS — constantly recalibrating, quietly redirecting.

And yet, even with all our tools, the heart still needs a compass. The psalmist’s cry feels particularly resonant at this moment in life:

“Lead me, O Lord, in your righteousness because of my enemies; make your way straight before me.” (Psalm 5:8)

As I pause at this transitional crossroads, I realise that sometimes our "enemies" are not external threats, but internal tensions. Fears, regrets, attachments, or ambitions that cloud our view. And these must also be acknowledged.

Paul’s words to the Galatians echo this internal struggle:

“Live freely, animated and motivated by God’s Spirit. Then you won’t feed the compulsions of selfishness... There is a root of sinful self-interest in us that is at odds with a free spirit...”
(Galatians 5:16–17, The Message)

So this becomes the deeper prayer: not just “What do I do next?” but “Who am I becoming?”

Not simply, “Where do I go now?” but “How can I walk in the Spirit — free, faithful, and formed by grace?”

I do not ask for a printed route anymore — I ask for the courage to trust the One who walks with me.

And in that spirit, I am drawn to the words of Joseph H. Gilmore, whose hymn expresses beautifully the assurance that even in seasons of change, God is still leading:

He leadeth me: O blessed thought!
O words with heavenly comfort fraught!
Whate’er I do, where’er I be,
still ’tis God’s hand that leadeth me.

Sometimes ’mid scenes of deepest gloom,
sometimes where Eden’s flowers bloom,
by waters calm, o’er troubled sea,
still ’tis God’s hand that leadeth me.

Lord, I would clasp Thy hand in mine,
nor ever murmur nor repine;
content, whatever lot I see,
since ’tis my God that leadeth me.

He leadeth me, He leadeth me;
by His own hand He leadeth me:
His faithful follower I would be,
for by His hand He leadeth me.

Daily Devotions

Rest and Recuperation

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
— Matthew 11:28 (NIV)

We live in a world that prizes productivity, speed, and busyness. Even in the church, we can fall into the trap of equating constant activity with faithfulness. But Jesus invites us into a different rhythm—one of rest, not just once a week, but as a regular way of being.

This is not laziness or avoidance—it is holy recuperation. Rest is part of the created order: God Himself rested on the seventh day. Jesus, too, frequently withdrew to quiet places to pray and recharge. If the Son of God needed rest, how much more do we?

Rest allows our souls to breathe. It helps us to reconnect—not only with God, but with ourselves and with others. It creates space for healing, clarity, and renewed strength.

One pastor put it this way: “If you don’t take a Sabbath, a Sabbath will take you.”

Whether your rest looks like a long walk, a quiet prayer, an afternoon nap, or a deep conversation with a trusted friend—receive it as a gift, not a guilt. You were never meant to run on empty. God does not love you more for being constantly busy. He simply loves you.

Reflection Questions:

• When was the last time you truly rested—body, mind, and soul?

• What would it take today to stop, breathe, and receive the rest God longs to give you?

A Prayer:

Lord of Sabbath,
I lay down my burdens today—
The tasks I haven’t finished,
The people I feel I must please,
The weight I carry in my body and soul.
Remind me that I am more than what I do.
In Your stillness, restore me.
Teach me to rest not only from my work,
but in Your presence.
Amen.

A Closing Thought:

“Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is take a nap.” — Rev. Eugene Peterson

Daily Devotions

Rest for the Righteous

“When peace comes, everyone who has lived honestly will rest on his own bed.”
— Isaiah 57:2 (CEV)

This verse offers a quiet but profound promise: the reward of peace and rest for those who have lived with integrity. Unlike the restless striving of the wicked (Isaiah 57:20), this rest is not merely physical—it is the deep peace of a life aligned with God.

This truth was discovered afresh by Charles Wesley. Though he had preached zealously and lived devoutly, he had not yet experienced peace with God. During a serious illness in his thirtieth year, he encountered the young Moravian missionary-in-training, Peter Bohler. When asked if he hoped to be saved, Charles replied, “Yes.”
“For what reason?” asked Bohler.
“Because I have used my best endeavours to serve God,” Charles replied.

Bohler shook his head—silently, but meaningfully. That shake shattered Wesley’s false assurance based on effort and good works. Through Bohler’s gentle instruction, Wesley came to understand that peace with God comes not through striving, but through faith in Jesus Christ. In that moment, Charles could say for the first time, “I now find myself at peace with God.” It was in this newfound peace that he wrote one of Methodism’s most beloved hymns:
“O for a thousand tongues to sing my great Redeemer’s praise…”

In our hurried world, this kind of peace remains elusive for many. As John Mark Comer writes in The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry:

“Ultimately, nothing in this life, apart from God, can satisfy our desires... The result? A chronic state of restlessness or, worse, angst, anger, anxiety, disillusionment... a life of more… which in turn makes us even more restless. And the cycle spirals out of control.”

True rest—real peace—isn’t found in doing more, buying more, or being more. It is found when we, like Charles Wesley, lay down our striving and trust wholly in God’s grace. It is found when we live honestly before God and others, and find our place, at last, in the rest He promises.

Prayer
Lord, I ask that You guide my heart and mind in my pursuit of living uprightly in Your sight. Help me, dear God, to examine my thoughts, my words, and my actions. May each be aligned with Your will, reflecting Your love and grace. As I navigate through the challenges of daily life, strengthen me to make choices that honour Your name and uphold the integrity of Your Word. And when my work is done, may I rest in peace—Your peace. Amen.

Daily Devotions

Reflection on Isaiah 14:7
“At last the whole earth is at rest and is quiet! All the world begins to sing!” (Isaiah 14:7)

This verse is part of a prophetic song of joy and celebration, marking the end of oppression and the arrival of peace for the oppressed. It captures the world’s response to the downfall of a tyrannical ruler—the king of Babylon—expressing the relief and joy of those long burdened under his reign.

According to Saundra Dalton-Smith in Sacred Rest: Recover Your Life, Renew Your Energy, Restore Your Sanity, the context of this verse reveals a profound truth:
“Rest is not for weaklings. Hollowing out space for rest is work. Finding time for rest is the hands and feet of the promises we long to claim. It means saying no. It means having limits with ourselves. It means having limits with others. It takes courage to rest in the midst of an outcome-driven society. It takes strength to walk away from good in the pursuit of better.”

The struggle for rest parallels the perseverance of great visionaries, as author Irving Stone observed. Having studied the lives of remarkable figures like Michelangelo, Vincent van Gogh, Sigmund Freud, and Charles Darwin, Stone noted:
“I write about people who sometime in their life...have a vision or dream of something that should be accomplished...and they go to work. They are beaten over the head, knocked down, vilified and for years they get nowhere. But every time they're knocked down they stand up. You cannot destroy these people. And at the end of their lives they've accomplished some modest part of what they set out to do.”

Lord, as I meditate on this verse, I see Your eternal desire for the earth to be at rest—a reflection of Your original creation, fashioned in beauty and harmony. Though sin has shattered this peace, I lift up the brokenness in our world today and ask for Your redemptive hand to bring healing where it is desperately needed. May nations turn their hearts to You and discover that true rest comes only in surrendering to Your will. Amen.

Daily Devotions

“But those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” — Isaiah 40:31

Learning to still our souls and wait before God may be one of the hardest disciplines in the Christian life. Everything around us urges haste. Our culture glorifies speed. Our old, impatient nature is always in a rush. But a restless heart often leads to a reckless life.

Here's a familiar scenario: you're ready to go somewhere, standing at the door or sitting in the car, and someone—your spouse, children, or friend—just isn’t ready yet. You’re watching the minutes tick by. Now, what's going on inside you? Are you calmly admiring the flowers swaying in the breeze? Browsing the car manual for hidden features? Probably not. Most likely, you're feeling frustration rising and impatience flaring.

In those moments, ask yourself: What’s more important—getting there on time or the people I’m waiting for?

If God can patiently watch over a world that is far from what He created it to be, perhaps we can learn to reflect some of that divine patience ourselves. And maybe, just maybe, when we wait without grumbling, God might open our eyes to opportunities we would otherwise miss—moments of grace, insight, or unexpected blessing.

Adam Mabry reflects on this kind of waiting in his book The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World that Never Stops. He writes:

“It is a great and glorious truth that we humans were made for the glory of God. To experience and express all the wonders of His manifold attributes is the delightful vocation of His people.”

This is what Isaiah 40:31 promises: that when we wait—not passively, but with trust—we discover a strength that isn't our own. We are lifted beyond fatigue and discouragement, like eagles carried by the wind. This is not the strength that comes from striving harder, but the power that flows from surrender and trust.

A Prayer

Lord,
You have spoken to us through your Word, saying,
“Those who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength;
they shall mount up with wings like eagles.”
Teach us how to wait—not impatiently, but faithfully—
so that we may learn how to fly.

May the nest we call family be built with sturdy branches of love and grace.
And remind us always that the nest is not a place to hide,
but a perch from which to launch into your purposes.

Give us confidence in your presence,
and the quiet assurance that when we take flight,
we never fly alone.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord,
Amen.

Daily Devotions

Ecclesiastes 4:6 offers a timeless truth:
“Better is a handful with quiet than two handfuls with toil, and a chasing after wind.”

This verse speaks deeply into our modern lives. It reminds us that contentment—found in simplicity and peace—is far more valuable than the relentless pursuit of more. The image of one handful with quiet contrasts powerfully with two handfuls gained through striving and restlessness. In essence, the Teacher of Ecclesiastes warns us that chasing after wealth, success, or even approval without inner peace is like chasing the wind: exhausting and ultimately empty.

Adam Mabry, in The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World That Never Stops, writes with clarity about the spiritual cost of our constant motion:

“Ultimately, rest is an act of resistance against the siren calls of our idols to work for them. By stopping, we take up arms against the great Western gods of achievement, money, and self-determination.”

Stillness, then, becomes a quiet protest—a holy rebellion—against the noise and pressures of modern life. We are not what we produce. We are not defined by what we own or how much we achieve. The spiritual discipline of rest helps us to remember who we truly are—beloved children of God, already enough.

Noise, both literal and metaphorical, has a profound effect on us. One psychological experiment demonstrated that in quiet environments, people were more likely to show compassion. When loud noise—like a lawnmower—was introduced, acts of kindness dropped dramatically. Another study in Los Angeles showed that children living near airports struggled to complete tasks under the roar of jet engines, while those in quieter neighbourhoods performed better. Even in prison studies, it has been shown that noise creates more unrest than poor food or other conditions.

So when Ecclesiastes speaks of “toil,” it isn’t just about hard work—it’s about inner noise. The constant hum of striving, comparing, desiring more. That’s what wears us down and steals our peace.

A prayer of stillness and surrender:
Lord, I don’t know when I started believing the lie that more is better. More things consume my time. More activities pull me away from those I love—and from you. More desires fill me with longing instead of gratitude. Even when I get what I thought I wanted, it often leaves me feeling empty.
Today, Lord, I choose to be thankful with my one handful. It is enough.
Fill my heart with gratitude and remind me again of the futility of chasing after the wind.
Amen.

Daily Devotions

Proverbs 3:21–24 offers us a gentle but firm invitation:

“My child, do not let these escape from your sight: keep sound wisdom and prudence, and they will be life for your soul and a garland for your neck. Then you will walk securely on your way, and your foot will not stumble. If you sit down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet.”

These verses speak of a life shaped by God’s wisdom—steady, secure, and at peace. Such a life is not built in haste, but through steady attentiveness to God's truth. It calls to mind the words of George Herbert’s hymn:

Seven whole days, not one in seven, I will praise Thee;
In my heart, though not in Heaven, I can raise Thee.
Small it is, in this poor sort to enroll Thee:
E'en eternity’s too short to extol Thee.

This is the fruit of a life lived in the rhythm of grace—where praise flows not from obligation, but from delight.

Adam Mabry, in The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World That Never Stops, frames this beautifully:

“But such deep fellowship with God and others can't be microwaved. It takes time. And when we carve out the time, we're rewarded with the relational fellowship for which we were made. We find ourselves loving to carve out the time to focus on our relationship, rather than having to do so. Duty gives way to delight.”

In our fast-paced and AI-driven world, one way forensic analysts test whether a photograph has been altered is by examining the shadows. If the shadows don't align with the light source, something isn’t right. In life, too, we must learn to watch for the light and its shadows. Where God’s light is shining consistently—on our thoughts, our decisions, our relationships—we find clarity, peace, and the assurance of rest. Where shadows fall strangely, out of step with His wisdom, we know to pause and reconsider.

The wisdom of Proverbs calls us not just to obedience, but to attentiveness: to keep God’s ways always in our line of sight. The result is security in our steps, courage in our stillness, and sweetness in our rest.

A Prayer:

Loving Father,
It is my desire to honour You in all my ways, because I love You.
Thank You for leading me with your wisdom and guiding my feet along safe paths.
Help me to acknowledge You not only in crisis but in every corner of my life—
in work and rest, in speaking and silence, in busyness and in stillness.
In all things and at all times, keep my eyes fixed on Jesus,
the light that casts out fear and the rock that holds firm.
To Him be all praise and glory, now and always.
Amen.

Daily Devotions

“But those who listen to me will live in safety and be at ease, without fear of harm.”
— Proverbs 1:33

How do you see the world—glass half empty, or glass half full? I once heard a radio interview with a man who had lost his sight as a teenager. When asked how he viewed life, he simply said, “I’m a three-quarters full kind of guy.” His optimism wasn’t rooted in denial of hardship, but in a deeper hope.

That honest yet hopeful spirit echoes in Adam Mabry’s words from The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World that Never Stops:

“The problems of life are real, not imaginary. Eastern meditation starts with the presupposition that pain in this world is illusory, but the gospel tells us that we don't have to pretend that what hurts does not, or should not. Life does hurt. Yet the gospel doesn't leave us there. Rest with God grows our ability to say, ‘I know God, and I know he will deliver me.’ It enables us to face problems with both honesty and hope.”

We don’t deny pain—but neither do we drown in it. Instead, Proverbs tells us that those who listen to God’s wisdom will dwell securely and live with ease. That doesn’t mean an easy life, but a life grounded in the peace and presence of God, free from the dread of disaster.

F.B. Meyer once told the story of two German climbers ascending the Matterhorn. They hired three guides and began their trek tied together by a single rope. The last man lost his footing, pulling down the man above him—and then another. But the lead guide had driven his spike deeply into the ice. He alone held firm. Because of him, the others regained their footing and survived.

That’s a vivid picture of what it means to be anchored in God’s wisdom. When others falter or fear overtakes us, it's the one who is fastened to the rock of God’s Word who holds firm. Our security doesn’t come from ourselves—it comes from the One who never slips.

St Augustine said it plainly:

“When people choose to withdraw far from a fire, the fire continues to give warmth, but they grow cold. When people choose to withdraw far from light, the light continues to shine, but they are in darkness. So too, when people withdraw from God.”

God remains constant, but we must choose to stay close—close enough to hear, to follow, and to trust.

A Prayer:

Dear Lord,
I come before you today, standing on the promise of Proverbs 1:33:
"Whoever listens to me will live in safety and be at ease, without fear of harm."
I want to be someone who listens—deeply, daily—to your voice.
I choose your wisdom over my worry, your truth over my fear.
Anchor me in your presence.
Give me peace, not by removing life’s storms,
but by being my shelter through them.
Keep me close to the fire of your love and the light of your truth.
Through Christ my rock and redeemer,
Amen.

Daily Devotions

Psalm 127:2 reminds us of the futility of self-reliance without trust in God’s provision:

“In vain you get up early and stay up late, sweating to make a living, because God loves us and provides for us even while we sleep.” (Psalm 127:2, adapted)

This verse challenges the relentless drive of our self-help culture and productivity mindset. It tells us that excessive toil—rising early, going to bed late, striving constantly—is ultimately in vain if it is divorced from a life of trust in God. There’s a deep restfulness available to those who believe that even while they sleep, God is at work on their behalf.

Adam Mabry, in The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World that Never Stops, speaks with convicting clarity:

“Whatever it is that you're thinking about right now that gets you off the hook of taking Jesus' call to rest seriously, it is probably the thing you actually love and worship more than Jesus. We refuse to rest because, at some deep level, we're convinced that if we stop, the thing for which we're really living won't be fed, pleased, or procured. If you're happier at work than in Christ, rest will never feel good. If you're more of a mother to your children than you are a daughter of the King, stopping may feel like sin.”

This is a heart-level challenge. Many of us may find our identity so entangled in productivity, roles, or performance that stopping—truly resting—feels like failure. But Psalm 127 reminds us that it is not our striving that ultimately sustains us—it is God’s loving care, even in the quiet hours of the night.

Yes, hard work is a gift, and diligence honours God. But when our efforts are fuelled by anxiety or driven by fear of inadequacy, we’ve lost sight of grace. The self-help movement, for all its insights, can unwittingly lure us into a never-ending quest for personal betterment that leaves us spiritually exhausted and emotionally empty.

Psalm 127:2 is a gentle, persistent invitation to trust. To rest. To believe that God is both provider and sustainer. It asks us to stop striving long enough to realise: we are already loved.

A Prayer:

Heavenly Father,
Thank you for the gift of rest and the quiet blessing of sleep.
Thank you for your faithful provision—day by day and even while I sleep.
You have given me good work to do, and I want to serve you well.
But help me remember: without you, I can do nothing.
And through Christ, I can do all things.

Deliver me from the need to control,
from the worries that crowd my mind,
from the temptation to carry burdens alone.
Help me not to chase after fulfilment apart from you.
Teach me to rely not on my strength but on your grace.

From this day forward, may I work from rest, not for rest—
and find my true peace in your presence.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Daily Devotions

Psalm 62:1, as translated in The Inclusive Bible, offers a profound invitation to rest:

“In God alone my soul finds rest, for my deliverance comes from God, who alone is my rock, my salvation, my fortress: I will never be shaken.”

This verse reminds us that true rest—deep, sustaining rest—is not found in sleep, entertainment, or escape, but in God alone. He is our source of safety, stability, and salvation.

In The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World That Never Stops, Adam Mabry reflects on this same truth with clarity and wit:

“Our bodies get tired, so we sleep. If I refuse sleep on the basis that I need to train for a marathon, I will fail to run a marathon, because my body needs rest in order to train. So why would we think it should be all that different with our souls? When our souls are tired, why wouldn’t we rest? Jesus seems to have made a habit of this. Are we a bit more spiritually fit than the Lord?”

It's a striking question. Even Jesus, the Son of God, took time to rest—to withdraw, to be quiet, to pray. So why do we so often resist doing the same?

There is, of course, a kind of tiredness that’s healthy—a good weariness. It's the feeling after meaningful work, joyful service, or honest labour. You may be physically tired, but inwardly content.

But then there’s soul-weariness—a draining, hollow tiredness. This is the weariness that saps our joy, dulls our hope, and steals our peace. It's the exhaustion that comes not from activity, but from spiritual depletion. When we’re constantly striving, constantly battling, constantly pouring out without being filled, we end up spiritually burnt out. And in that place, we risk settling for a life far smaller than the one God intends for us.

That’s why Psalm 62 doesn’t just invite us to rest—it commands us to root that rest in God:

“My salvation and my honour depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge.” (Psalm 62:7)

It’s a declaration of dependence and trust: that God alone can hold our weariness, steady our souls, and restore our strength.

A Prayer for Rest and Renewal:

Eternal God,
the refuge and help of all your children,
we praise you for all you have given us,
for all you have done for us,
for all that you are to us.

In our weakness, you are strength;
in our darkness, you are light;
in our sorrow, you are comfort and peace.

We cannot number your blessings,
we cannot declare your love.
But for all your goodness, we bless you.

Teach us to live in your presence,
to love what you love,
and to serve you with joy and faithfulness
in the dailiness of our lives.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.

Daily Devotions

The Psalms are filled with the cries of those seeking rest, consolation, and contentment in the midst of distress. Take, for example, Psalm 55:4–8:

“My heart is in anguish within me, the terrors of death have fallen upon me. Fear and trembling come upon me, and horror overwhelms me. And I say, ‘O that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest; truly, I would flee far away; I would lodge in the wilderness; I would hurry to find a shelter for myself from the raging wind and tempest.’”

Here we encounter a soul overwhelmed—gripped by fear, anguish, and the desire to escape. The psalmist longs not just for distance from his troubles, but for rest. He imagines the wings of a dove, a symbol of peace, carrying him away to a place of safety, solitude, and stillness. It’s a deeply human prayer—the kind that whispers, “I just need to get away… even if only for a while.”

In our own search for rest, we often turn to the wrong places—busyness masquerading as productivity, distraction disguised as peace. That’s why the words of Adam Mabry in his book The Art of Rest: Faith to Hit Pause in a World That Never Stops are so compelling. He writes:

“We express the glory of God as we experience relationship with God. We won’t declare him if we do not know him. But if we never have any time to enjoy being with him—if we’re never resting with him—then what have we to express to the world? ‘Come meet Jesus! I barely have time to be with him, but trust me, he’s great.’”

This observation resonates with the cry of Psalm 55. The psalmist begins with a plea:

“Listen to my prayer, O God, do not ignore my plea; hear me and answer me. My thoughts trouble me and I am distraught because of what my enemy is saying, because of the threats of the wicked; for they bring down suffering on me and assail me in their anger.” (vv. 1–3)

But even in the storm, the psalm moves toward trust. It offers us this promise:

“Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken.” (v. 22)

And it closes with this quiet affirmation of faith:

“But as for me, I trust in you.” (v. 23)

In this journey—from anguish to assurance—we find a pattern we can follow. We are invited to cry out, to long for rest, and then to place our burden in God’s hands.

Prayer
Lord, help me to cast my cares on you, for you have promised to sustain me.
Help me to trust you, knowing you will not let your faithful ones be shaken.
Keep me from betraying the trust of those close to me.
And where relationships are broken, give me grace to seek your healing. Amen