There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God; for anyone who enters God’s rest also rests from their works, just as God did from his. – Hebrews 4:9-10
There are some days when helping those we care for just plain hurts. We’re exhausted, cranky, have physical pain or illness, and we just feel like we can’t do it today. But there’s this guilt – this sense of “I’m all wrong and selfish” because we just need a day off.
But there’s a reason God gave us the Sabbath in the Old Testament: “Then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.” (Genesis 2:3, NIV)
On the days when I feel like I just can’t help my husband – whether it’s because his body refuses to work or because he’s tied up emotionally by his PTSD – I have to remind myself of these passages. Neither of us is going to make it if I don’t get some rest of my own. It’s okay for me to do the bare minimums, and then just snuggle with him on the bed, resting in his arms.
Jesus, your love is so kind and gentle. You take care of me when I cannot care for myself. Please help me to rest in your love, especially on days like these, when I just can’t help other people. I need your strength.
Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things. – Philippians 4:8
Some mornings, when I look at my husband and know it’s going to be one of those days, I want to go back to bed and forget that I have any kind of responsibilities. It’s exhausting to think about what lays ahead when he clearly won’t be making it out of bed, either.
The discouragement can be overwhelming.
But if I intentionally think about the things that God has created that bring joy and excellence into our lives, I find just a hint of motivation to get up and face the day. These lovely things – even in the midst of suffering – are where I find strength. God’s goodness – despite the pain – is where I can rejoice.
Every time you face discouragement, you can remember the beautiful, wonderful, honorable things that exist around you. A flower that fights through the weeds, a flavorful cup of Chai tea, the story of a woman who fought against all odds – these things can motivate you and change you, making you more like Jesus.
Heavenly Father, please help me in my discouragement. Remind me of the good things you’ve given me and the good things you’ve done, so that I can find hope, joy, and motivation to work through the tough moments in life. Whatever is honorable, pure, and lovely is from you. Please remind me of that on days like this.
Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you…
–I Peter 5:7
We can’t save the world. Or at least, that’s what I’m told. I sure try, though. Every friend, every loved one who shares a struggle, a burden, a pain or a sorrow magically becomes my responsibility. And if you’re taking care of someone day in and day out, some of those burdens genuinely are your responsibility.
Whether you volunteered for the role of caregiver or not, you probably have a tender, compassionate heart that battles against this struggle to save the world as mine does.
I used to work at a small summer camp in Georgia where we memorized a new verse each of the 5 days of the week camp was in session. I Peter 5:7 was one of those verses. And it has saved my spirit so many times over the years since.
I’ve struggled a lot with many issues and trials over the years – losses, pain and suffering, watching loved ones suffer, et cetera – and this verse reminds me daily to think about Him and abandon my burdens to Him.
He’s capable of taking on the troubles of the world. We’re not. All our anxieties are more than we can bear. All the struggles and pains of people we love are even harder to bear. But we don’t have to do it alone. In fact, we can’t.
Jesus, thank you for taking my burdens.Thank you for taking the burdens of those I love. Please help me to remember, every day, that my burdens are not my own, but yours.