The sweet voice on the phone was that of a local pastor’s wife: “I know this is short notice but I am in need of . . . a little sabbatical this morning – a rest.” Continuing, “I’m calling about finding a quiet place where I can close a door, be alone, and hear the Words of the Father. Would you have a room at Shunem where this can happen? About three hours should do it.” Offering a silent prayer, I showed her to that special place where Jesus was waiting, even expecting her, as always.
Like a flash, I remembered. I had been a young pastor’s wife before we served as overseas missionaries. Working full time, juggling home, church responsibilities, needs of my children and their activities, prayingfor them, and carrying my end of ministry alongside my husband – I often ran on “empty.” Today, Laura was empty. My heartbeat immediately synced with hers. “Yes, Laura, please come. I have just the right place where you can retreat, rest, and have time with Jesus.”Discouragement hovered in the roof of Shunem House. My husband and I were active in a missionary care role that meshed well a newly-founded hospitality ministry for missionaries and other servants of God who needed a place of respite. From the beginning, we felt overwhelmed with the “bells and whistles,” plus the huge size of the facility. Shunem Ministry had miraculously been established. It was a “new thing” He was doing, and we knew without a doubt that, at our forty year mark in ministry, we were to be part of it. Exciting? Yes. Without challenge? No. In fact, there was something new every day – a new issue to deal with or a new broken something to be fixed.
In the heating system, the crawl space, and in every ceiling there was a potential problem. We never knew when something was going to go bad, need fixed, or when a hard rain would invade a bedroom and soak the carpet, or in another place requiring buckets to catch it. One winter morning, a devastating blow happened. Discouragement with a capital “D” bombarded through the office ceiling. A frozen water pipehad burst and saturated the wallboard above the desk. From the living room I heard the crumbling. It was giving way, plop by plop and piece by piece. House maintenance issues, one after another, had been ongoing as we tried to keep the house up to par for guests. The winter season had been an unusually busy and challenging time. This was just one more thing to deal with. It was bound to happen sooner or later. At the sound of the falling, wet ceiling chunks, I resisted reality and chose to cling to my winged-back chair with my “blankie” for pity time and clutched my Bible for refuge. Without looking in on the damage, the snubbing began, then sobbing. Emotionally, I hit bottom. I needed help. Something. . . anything to steady me. Page after page flipped in this desperate quest. Through blurred eyes, a sentence in red in the Book of Mark was spotted.
Excitedly, I tracked what had been happening in the previous verses. Jesus and the disciples had been going full-speed. People, people – needy people followed them. They had cast out demons, anointed and healed people. The Lord’s teaching had been challenged and rejected by His own people, their lives were threatened, even John the Baptist had been beheaded. My dilemma was less than minor compared to what I read. However, the Living Word spoke to me that morning as I opened my spiritual mail, God’s Word. There it was, open to all. I was included. “Then, because so many people were coming and going that they did not even have a chance to eat, he said to them, ‘Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.’” (Mark 6:31). The words “rest,” “quiet,” and “people” diagnosed my need. I sobbed some more, but the Word spoke into my soul so personally. It was evident that my need was much greater than the ills of a crumbling ceiling and the extra trouble ahead in getting it repaired. By coming, hope, assurance, peace, and a song poured over me. I was drawn to Him. With fresh faith, I came. There, I found Christ waiting.
Jesus was surely thrilled, as I was, when Laura came up the sidewalk toting a canvas bag with Bible, notebook and pens, and a bottle of water. The open invitation to “Come to me,” given by our Lord in Matthew is on-going, and never expires. In His Presence, and in the Word – that’s where we find soul-rest. It happens, sometimes in less than three hours, but we must take the initiative. The journey of the Christ follower is marked by expectant hope. Find some time to take a walk and listen to the Lord, invite a friend for coffee and ask her about what brings her spirit peace, or join with other Wesleyan Women this April atAlive where there will be several fantastic opportunities for inspiration, rest, renewal and spiritual refreshment. God offers fullness when we take steps toward him.
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