My husband’s words sank like a stone in my gut. “I want you to know that sometimes your overcommitment affects how the Gospel is played out in our home.”

When my husband said these words to me, telling other people about Jesus was my job (it still is).  

You know what it’s like… Getting to that refugee center by maneuvering through traffic that would cast an atheist to his knees. Or patiently cupping mugs of tea long gone cold as stories meander late into the night. 

You see, I’m guilty of thinking of myself and what I can handle more highly than I ought to (Romans 12:3). And in my overcommitment and my lack of rest, I love less well and with less joy. Often, the Jesus that is seen in me can be a bit… dictatorial.

Do I really want my kids to think of me as “burned out for Jesus and a little too busy to be nice?”

Do I really think it’s God’s will for me to be constantly burned out, even for all the things I think he wants me to do? 

As global workers, we can internalize the subtle, seditious lie that God ultimately values me for what I do. 

Author, Bible teacher, and speaker, Courtney Doctor, wrote of some of the many lies that tempt us from our core identity as God’s children.

The lie of the slave says you have to work and work hard, to secure and sustain the Lord’s love… your worth is tied to your ability to produce and behave.
The lie of the orphan says you’ve been abandoned and are all alone. No one really cares about you, provides for you, protects you, or loves you.

But God referenced the Israelites’ freedom from slavery when he reinstated the Sabbath in Deuteronomy 5:15. 

God leads me beside green pastures and still waters. But so often, I pretend like I don’t need them.

Is it possible that in my lack of rest, people–my home included–are seeing a distorted version of the Gospel?

What could intentional, more-than-you-think-you-need rest speak to your soul this week?