Rest for my itchy heart

Friday arrives. The shoes come off. The sofa beckons.

But sometimes that’s not enough, the sofa isn’t quite deep enough.

No matter how many books I read, how much Netflix I watch, or games I play, rest - true rest - eludes me.

Instead, there is an edginess; a hidden, undiscoverable itch.

The Itchy Heart

It rears its head as snappiness when someone dares to interrupt my ‘chill time’. Or as dullness in the things I usually enjoy.

And I realise, with that weight of conviction, that I’m searching for peace in the wrong place.

My tired heart is wound tightly around the idea that true rest lies in having enough time for myself to do what I want.

And it’s exhausting.

The Restful Place

My approach is completely wrong. Augustine makes this point with his famous words.

‘We were made for you O Lord and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in you.’

A plant can’t thrive if it’s placed in a darkened room with no water. If it tried to look for satisfaction there, it would never find it. It was made for sunlight.

We too have been made for a certain environment, a certain sunlight.

Our hearts are made to rest in God’s arms.

True rest, the kind that fills you in the deepest parts, and brings out the heaviest sigh of relief, comes when we direct our hearts to the truth of God and what he’s done for us.

The Restful Gaze

As always, the answer lies not in looking at ourselves, but at our Father. Immerse yourself in Him. His character. His love. His words to us.

Rested eyes are outward eyes.

And then the Netflix, the books, the chats - all the gifts of this world – are freed to become much more enjoyable than before.