Rest

Headache gray eroded away along with
The scent of the radiation burned fray
Synthetic rogue fibers that tripped you up
Dissolved into the past of a place where
Time only stands as a fading construct
Dreamt up by shepherds whose herds were scattered
Leaving them with just the hope on their backs
So they could still know that for which they yearned
Would be sufficient to provide pastures
Lush green and graced with peace unending

For you to be healthy, you must rest. Slow down, and God will heal you. He will bring rest to your mind, to your body, and most of all to your soul. He will lead you to green pastures. Green pastures were not the natural terrain of Judea. The hills around Bethlehem where David kept his flock were not lush and green. Even today they are white and parched. Any green pasture in Judea is the work of some shepherd. He has cleared the rough, rocky land. Stumps have been torn out, and brush has been burned. Irrigation. Cultivation. Such are the work of a shepherd. Hence, when David says, “He makes me to lie down in green pastures,” he is saying, “My shepherd makes me lie down in his finished work.” With his own pierced hands, Jesus created a pasture for the soul. He tore out the thorny underbrush of condemnation. He prided loose the huge boulders of sin. In their place he planted seeds of grace and dug ponds of mercy. And he invites us to rest there. Can you imagine the satisfaction in the heart of the shepherd when, with work completed, he sees his sheep rest in the tender grass? Can you imagine the satisfaction in the heart of God when we do the same? His pasture is his gift to us. This is not a pasture that you have made. Nor is it a pasture that you deserve. It is a gift from God.
–Safe In The Shepherd’s Arms, Pp.29-30, by Max Lucado