It all began at a women’s retreat five years ago.

Twenty of us had gathered at Camp Clayton for a weekend of fun, relaxation and reflection. We’d just finished a beautiful time of singing and were waiting, with quiet hearts, for God to speak. I sat, eyes closed, smiling as I basked in the calm that filled the room. Any moment, I imagined, God would give me something to say. I was the leader. Surely He would reveal some powerful truth that would meet a need or bring new understanding.

Instead I heard, “I want you to put your children in school.”

Whaaaat?

Home schooling was my passion. I loved investing in our children. We’d been at it for almost a decade. Surely that wasn’t God speaking.

I opened my eyes to a half-squint and peered around the group. The women sat motionless, each listening for that still small voice. Oblivious. No one else had felt the earthquake that just ripped across my world.

Now’s not the time to think about that. I shoved the words into my box marked ‘later’ and continued with the retreat.

By September our children were enrolled at a local Christian school. God had spoken. The same day my husband started a new job – a wonderful opportunity which also held many challenges.

Our family was beginning a new season.

Change can be exciting…if you’re ready for it. I wasn’t.

Like a fussy mother hen I fretted almost constantly. How would everyone cope with all the adjustments? How would I cope?

That wasn’t all. Soon after, we laid down all our leadership roles at church. The time and energy required for them just wasn’t there anymore.

In a matter of weeks my whole world morphed into something unrecognisable. Almost every role that I’d held so zealously had been stripped away. Days which had been packed full with vision and activity suddenly seemed empty and aimless.

How did I cope?

I didn’t.

I fell in a heap.

I spent weeks lying on the couch, too tired to read or even pray. Anxiety flowed through my veins over the littlest things. My heart began beating in strange, thumping rhythms. I withdrew, avoiding conversation with anyone beyond family and very close friends.

It felt like my world was imploding. Burnout, some call it.

One afternoon I lowered myself into a warm bath, groaning inwardly. The weariness wasn’t lifting, no matter how much I rested.

“I’m going to bring you back,” God whispered. “Stronger than before.”

Really, God? I sighed. Is that even possible?

In recent months I’d become the mouse in the wheel, frantically running in circles. My Father God saw what was happening and lifted me out, removing the wheel completely.

He lovingly stripped away all I looked to for identity, reminding me who I was when our relationship began. Way back then, midway through my teens, it was Him and me…just because. Nothing extra was needed. His love was enough.

Much as I thrived on all the busyness and accomplishments of more recent years, God wasn’t especially impressed. The most important thing to Him was the state of my heart.

Gently, He began to woo me again, reminding me how wonderful it was to just ‘be’ with Him. To sit in His presence and drink of His boundless peace. Such peace. He gave me courage to again lay myself at His feet and say, “Have your way, God. Do whatever you want. I’m yours.”

Then, oh-so-tenderly, He began to rebuild my life on a new foundation – one of rest.

God’s rest isn’t like that stillness we seek at the end of a demanding day. It’s not a long, cool drink or a quick lie down. It’s not something external at all. It’s an inward condition of the heart. An awareness that everything we need is found in Him. Not in ourselves. When we understand that, we’re released from the pressure to struggle and strive (Heb.4:10).

All we need to do is walk with Him.

Jesus invites us to come in all our weariness and drop our heavy burdens at His feet (Matt. 11:28-30). He has a better way. As we look to Him He will lead us, one step at a time, in the way of rest. He will set the pace and He will set the limits. Best of all, He will shoulder the weight of any load we need to carry.

I’m still learning how this works out in practice. I have a feeling this particular lesson will last a lifetime. But the journey is an absolute pleasure. I couldn’t ask for a better travelling companion.