I know the cause of your fatigue. You need to trust God’s grace.
Follow the example of the Chilean miners. Trapped beneath two thousand feet of solid rock, the thirty-three men were desperate. The collapse of a main tunnel had sealed their exit and thrust them into survival mode. They ate two spoonfuls of tuna, a sip of milk, and a morsel of peaches — every other day. For two months they prayed for someone to save them.
On October 13, 2010, the men began to emerge, slapping high fives and leading victory chants. A great-grandfather. A forty-four-year-old who was planning a wedding. Then a nineteen-year-old. All had different stories, but all had made the same decision. They trusted someone else to save them. No one returned the rescue offer with a declaration of independence: “I can get out of here on my own. Just give me a new drill.” They had stared at the stone tomb long enough to reach the unanimous opinion: “We need help. We need someone to penetrate this world and pull us out.” And when the rescue capsule came, they climbed in.
Why is it so hard for us to do the same?
We find it easier to trust the miracle of resurrection than the miracle of grace. We fear failure so much that we create the image of perfection, lest heaven be even more disappointed in us than we are. The result? The weariest people on earth.
Attempts at self-salvation guarantee nothing but exhaustion. We scamper and scurry, trying to please God, collecting merit badges and brownie points, and scowling at anyone who questions our accomplishments. Call us the church of hound-dog faces and slumped shoulders.
Stop it! Once and for all, enough of this frenzy. “Your hearts should be strengthened by God’s grace, not by obeying rules” (Hebrews 13:9, NCV). Jesus does not say, “Come to me, all you who are perfect and sinless.” Just the opposite. “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28, NASB).
There is no fine print. A second shoe is not going to drop. God’s promise has no hidden language. Let grace happen, for heaven’s sake. No more performing for God, no more clamoring after God. Of all the things you must earn in life, God’s unending affection is not one of them. You have it. Stretch yourself out in the hammock of grace.
You can rest now.
Father, give me the grace to know that I should trust in Your promises in all things, for I am weary and heavy-laden, and I desire your peace. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.