When I got home from the World Race 7 weeks ago, the Lord promised me that this summer would be a season of rest—not just in the sense of leisure and of getting energy back, but in receiving RESToration from God.
Coming off of the Race, I was pretty worn down. I’d just had the most life-changing year of my life, had seen Jesus work and move in miraculous ways, seen lives changed, families reunited, a community built, and my own heart radically transformed.
But there still was a cost.
My soul was pretty tangled and messy. The beauty of loving and living with Jesus was twisted up in new wounds, scars left from the journey. I’d had hopes and expectations for the Race that went unfulfilled. I’d lost certain relationships. I’d gained a new sense of identity, and some new doubts and insecurities about myself to go with it.
My soul was in bad need of restoration.
The first week I got home, God gave me Psalm 62:1 to meditate on: “For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation.” He told me how he was the only one who could give me true rest or restoration, how he wanted me to seek him in the morning, ask him what would bring me true rest.
At the time, I felt a bit like everything in my life was competing for my attention. It was jarring coming back into America, suddenly having the convenience of internet 24/7, being able to have any commodity, food, entertainment, or info I wanted, almost immediately. It felt like everything around me, from my books, to my friends, to Netflix, to my phone, to Amazon, were all simulataneously saying “Look at me! Look at me! I’ll be the one to give you rest, choose me!” I had no idea how to choose, and felt constantly distracted.
Naturally, when the Lord told me to start by asking him what would really give me rest, I was excited. Of course, I thought, God knows what I actually need. I just need to ask him and he’ll show me. And when I did ask, he was faithful to lead me. This has been a summer of learning that I really don’t know what I need…but that I know a big God who really wants to satisfy me.
The funny thing is, learning that lesson hasn’t come through my succeeding to ask him or obey.
More often than not, I haven’t listened to his voice, or been faithful to obey when I do. I’ve failed most of the time in obeying the call.
I’ve listened to distraction.
I’ve wasted hours on social media and scrolling through random articles I don’t really care that much about.
I didn’t spend time processing the Race like I should have—I spent that time reading a whole lot of Stephen King instead.
I haven’t kept in touch with my community as well as I should have, haven’t given as much as I wanted to those I love here.
And here’s the crazy part—the Lord still did what He promised even when I chose not to pursue it.
He has restored my soul. He’s untangled the mess, sorted out the good from the bad, and given faith where I held only fear.
And He did it not in spite of my failure to obey, but through my failure.
I think too much of the time, we don’t see that failure can be a gift. Too often, we hold onto the shame we feel when we fail and don’t rejoice in the fact that God literally allowed us to fail and chose to fight on our behalf the whole time. It’s surprising, but God gave me rest by allowing me to fail. This has been a restorative season, but it’s been precisely in my failing to come to the Father that I’ve found rest.
The most restorative moments have been the times I’ve looked up to God and said, “I really didn’t seek you today.” And he still loves me.
The most restful times have come when I’ve avoided healing, only to turn around and see the Father healed me while I was avoidant.
When I didn’t ask him to come, He still came.
When I didn’t spend my time with him, he showed up in the ways I was avoiding him, brought rest through the hours I wasted.
So as you read this, ask God what he thinks of your failures lately. I think most of us would be surprised to see that he’s not actually upset, that maybe he even gives us seasons where he graces us with failure and promises to keep working even when we won’t. And if you’re feeling a sense of regret or failure, here’s the good news: God won’t waste your failure.
Sometimes failure is what we need, because it lets us be broken and lets God be God. He’s not upset with you for failing and has a plan to make this failure so, so beautiful.
That’s the sort of God I want to know—the God who doesn’t waste our failure. The God who actually works all things together for good, and not just the times our hearts were fully in it. The God who gives me the grace of being really messy and lets me choose not to follow him, but still never quits on me.
That’s the only kind of God, I think, who’s truly able to restore our wounded, messy hearts.
