The Humility of Rest

I’m so exhausted and anxious. The realization seems to come out of nowhere, but it lingers. Probably because I know it’s true, but I can’t put my finger on why exactly.

There are lots of stressors I could list if I had to. We’ve recently moved for my husband’s job, and we’re still not fully unpacked. We miss the family and friends near our old home. We haven’t been able to form many new friendships yet, and we’re feeling a bit lonely. Work is busy and has its challenges for both of us. 

But I’m not really convinced any of these reasons really explain why I’m feeling this way. In many ways, our life should be significantly less stressful than before the move (when my husband, Ben, didn’t have work). And as far as feeling lonely, the events of 2020 mean we’ve just survived nearly a year of seeing few people on a regular basis, so this isn’t a new struggle.  

So why would it suddenly feel overwhelming now? 

When Ben and I talk about it, he asks, “Do you really need to know why it’s hitting you now? It’s okay to just be tired and burned out sometimes, even if you don’t know why. What matters is that you take care of yourself when that happens.” 

It’s okay to feel that way. We talk longer, but that’s the insight that lingers with me, reminding me of other little ways that God seems to keep pointing me to this truth: It’s okay to be human. To have limitations. To need rest. To get exhausted sometimes and not really know why. 

Put another way, I think God’s been helping me learn a healthier way of living, one that’s sometimes called humility. 

I remember growing up thinking about humility almost as if it was a difficult puzzle or mind game. Ben Franklin’s famous self-improvement project comes to mind. He committed to achieving a set of virtues, but in the end concluded humility was the one virtue nearly impossible to achieve. After all, any improvements made in humility would lead to you feeling proud of your humility!  

C. S. Lewis explained humility in a way that seemed more helpful. He explained that humility doesn’t mean dishonesty, as if people should think negatively about their strengths. Instead, he said, the truly humble person is so focused on love for the world and others they don’t feel the need to focus on themselves at all. That was helpful, but still left me a bit confused about how exactly one goes about this. 

So, for much of my life, humility has been a confusing virtue I vaguely associated with simply avoiding thinking too much about myself, either positively or negatively. 

But my husband’s quiet compassion reminds me of an entirely different way of thinking about humility that God has been teaching me over the years. One where humility is about compassion for ourselves and others. It’s knowing our limitations and weaknesses as someone who is as human as anyone else. It’s a way of understanding yourself and the world where it’s okay to be human. Being human means being wonderfully made by God in His image. But it also means that we’re not God. We have limitations and vulnerabilities. And that’s okay. Good even! To accept that I am human—no more and no less—is to give myself the freedom and permission to not always be superwoman (as inspiring as she is!). 

In Christian circles, where we’re deeply committed to living for God, we have a tendency sometimes to think that living for God means always having superhuman levels of energy, motivation, and achievement. That’s what God wants from us, right? Right? 

Actually, God wants the opposite of our desperate attempts to do more and be more. He wants us to depend on Him in the ups and downs that are simply a part of being human, to rest in the Spirit, to rely on others for renewal and strength. To try to eliminate the ups and downs of being human through our willpower and strength isn’t heroic. It’s a kind of pride that can only hurt us and others. 

Psalm 131:1–2 is a prayer that, for me, captures the gentle peace that comes with choosing the path of humility instead: “My heart is not proud, LORD, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content.” 

That’s the place God invites us to. One where we can find rest in the freedom of being God’s child, carried and held in love.

—Written by Monica LaRose. Used by permission from the author.