He is our Rest. {Anonymous}

Late one night my boys asked me “Where is daddy?” I told them…he stayed late at work. The next morning they asked, “Where is daddy?” I told them he had to get up early to go to work. The truth was, I didn’t want to tell them the truth. You see…I didn’t know where Daddy was. But I knew he was off somewhere in a drunken stupor and I just hoped and prayed that he was safe, and more importantly, that everyone else was safe. For every driver in his path and every person he met, I prayed for their safety more than I prayed for his. Sometimes days would go by with no word from him, no call, no text, nothing…just fear…fear that he could be in jail, or dead, or heaven forbid, have killed someone else in an accident.

For years I didn’t know, I didn’t know my husband struggled with alcoholism, depression, and suicidal thoughts. When the disease of alcoholism reared its ugly head, it did so with a power and all-consuming darkness I had never felt. Darkness and fear consumed my thoughts and life off and on for years.
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The darkness, fear, anxiety, and worry were overwhelming at times. Tears threatened to fall at all hours of the day and night. Endless sleepless nights up worrying…would he make it home safely, would tonight be the night I get the call from the police that he’s been in an accident, that he’s been arrested, that he has hurt someone by driving under the influence.

Years of trying to protect my children from even knowing…the lies, the cover-ups, spending the night with my sister or parents just to get us out of the house so they didn’t wonder where dad was. Then…then… they got too old to hide it anymore. Their eyes saw him passed out on the couch, their eyes saw him stumble through the house, and their own eyes watched as he drank while driving them in the car, their ears heard him slur his words, heard him ask about their day but passing out before they could answer, they saw him pass out on the floor in the middle of playing a game. It was time for the truth.

So many minutes that turned into years of worrying, wondering…do I stay in this marriage, do I forgive AGAIN, do I give him another chance AGAIN, do I keep hunting for empty bottles, do I, do I, do I….. What am I teaching my children? Am I teaching them forgiveness, mercy, love, patience, and compassion, or am I teaching them this is acceptable, that this is a good example of a father and husband? 

What do I do?

I can’t say I was always close to God during those times. I wasn’t. Fear and anxiety took over sometimes. However, when I drew close to God, when I said His Name, and when I repeated those verses, I felt His presence and peace. My friendship with the spouse of an alcoholic was a God-ordained friendship that helped me survive those dark times. I would withdraw from family at times because I was too overwhelmed to be around other people. I didn't want them to know about my husband's struggles, because I worried...I might be able to forgive him, but what if they couldn't?

I needed strength, wisdom, love, compassion, and help for my hurting heart. But where do I get it…from God’s word. During some days of the deepest, darkest pain and fear, I opened my bible. I looked for verses that gave me comfort. John 14:27, Colossians 3:15, Psalms 27:5, Proverbs 12:25, Romans 15:13, Matthew 11:28, Philippians 4:6-7, John 16:33, 1 Peter 5:7, Psalms 33:20-22, Ephesians 6:10, Joshua 1:9, Psalms 56:3, Psalms 27:14; Psalm 59:16, James 1:2-4, Isaiah 26:3-4, 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 Those verses became my lifeline. I memorized them, read them, prayed them, mediated on them, and repeated them over and over and over in my mind and heart. Every day I said those 18 verses, some days several times a day.

God’s Word and God’s people: together they helped me survive. At times it felt like I couldn’t make it through the day, and couldn’t take another breath, but I could if I clung to my friend and those 18 verses. God put a friend in my life who had gone through a similar experience…her husband was a recovering alcoholic. Repeating those verses, just saying Jesus’ name when it’s all I could pray, talking to my friend at church: late night calls, early morning calls, walks, visits, that friendship helped me through dark times.

For anyone who has similar struggles: don't be afraid to open up to someone. My relationship with my friend saved me...don't go through it alone. Stay as close to God as you can. There will be times you don't want to read and can barely pray...just try.

He is our Rest.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

In the middle of turmoil, there is a promise of rest that comes from the words of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. In Matthew 11:28 (NIV), He tenderly beckons, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest." These words carry the ultimate essence of His divine compassion, offering unexplainable rest to weary souls.

In John 16:33 (NIV), Jesus reaffirms His divine authority over the chaos of this world, saying, "I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." This declaration assures us that our rest is rooted in His victorious dominion, overcoming the troubles that surround us.

Peter reaffirms this promise in 1 Peter 5:7 (NIV) by inviting us to cast our anxieties and troubles on Him because He genuinely cares for us. Here, we find the heart of our rest—knowing that we are not alone in our struggles, for He cares deeply for each of us.

It is the act of coming to Jesus with our burdens, fully aware that He has ultimately conquered this world's tribulations, and finding peace in the unwavering love and care He gives to us.

Remember that in Christ, our rest is not a mere respite from our daily struggles but a deep, enduring, and often unexplainable refuge. It is a rest that soothes the weariness of our souls, a peace that transcends worldly troubles, and an assurance of His unfailing care. 

Let us take refuge in His promises, for He is truly our rest in every circumstance of life.