the re-creating spaces

“Rest is worship,” He tells me.
Rest is worship.

It’s me saying, “I’m human, I can’t do it all, and I’m not going to try to defy my limitations. I’m going to admit that I’m human and I need to rest.”

I’m human, and I’m going to admit that I need re-creation daily.

I’m human.

I’m mortal.

I’m finite.

I can only work so long before I reach capacity.

I can only move and think and speak and write and produce for so long.

And every day — every single day — I must refuse to agree with the madness of this world that tells me that busyness leads to productivity, which will inevitably lead to greatness.

Because that is a lie from Hell.

Busyness leads to burn out, which will inevitably lead to loss.

“Work hard,” He tells me, “and rest well.”

Every day — every single day — I must discipline myself to live by His pace, not mine, and most certainly not this world’s.

Instead, I must hold sacred the re-creating spaces. I must dwell within the boundary lines He has set. I must accept that I am human amd mortal and finite. “Rest is worship,” He tells me.

Rest is worship.

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