She gave me the list of regrets–in three columns–should have, would have, and could have.

Her sighs turned into sobs.
There was no turning back.
I held her hand. She held mine.
I prayed for her. She breathed, “Amen.”
It seemed final, as if the struggle would always be her life.
There’s always hope, which meets us in the darkest of places, a force that breaks through the pain of it all.
I read the words of Jesus recorded in Matthew 28:11.

Come to Me,
All who are weary,
I will give you

As I read, she gave a nod, looked intently at the well-worn pages of my Bible, and said, “I need rest.”

No one is able to adequately explain the mysterious presence of Jesus in his words. But.  The divine words shifted something within her soul.

It had been understood there would be no condemnation, only invitation.

The weight of it all was gone when she stopped denying the raging storm within, confessing and surrendering the reality of fear, pain, and darkness. She didn’t specifically ask for change; she was too worn out by the struggle to understand her need.  Even so, she changed in the moment.  I understood. I’ve been changed by the same words, releasing it all, receiving an undefinable rest.

When we release it all, the insignificant and important, we receive divine rest, one of our greatest needs.

  • Receive divine words.
  • Release.
  • Rest.

Learning to Kickstart the day with God,

(Written by Kerrie Carlisle Palmer © 2013 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED)

My first church . . . where  I surrendered it all . . . and received rest.

My first church . . . where I surrendered it all . . . and received rest.

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