It’s Sunday, for some a day of rest. It doesn’t matter who you are. In your heart, you long for a lasting rest. We are always searching for it, for a way to be filled up. And on Sundays I journal and pray about rest. Won’t you breathe and read slowly and think on this one thing? Won’t you stay and be still with me for a few spectacular, ordinary moments? 

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Blessed are the pure in heart, who leave everything to God now as they did before they ever existed.

[Meister Eckhart]

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Almighty God, maker of heaven and earth, we confess to You that we don’t believe You are almighty.

We confess that, of our own accord, we often bear burdens better left to You.

We confess that we think so much of ourselves, that if we set those burdens down — or never took them up — the world You created might start turning the other direction and everything would be terrible.

We think so much of ourselves, that we believe we can and should carry weighty things and busy things all by ourselves.

We are distracted from this pride by our genuine desire to help others, to care for someone, to look out for ourselves.

And we are so blinded.

And we are so tired.

Lord our healer, Lord our provider, mend us.

We are in dire need of rescue from ourselves. Stay our hands that would accept or cling to what is not ours to bear. Or else, strengthen those hands with Your power, that we might not bear them alone.

Almighty God, teach us to believe Your might.

Teach us to leave everything to You.

Amen.