
As the year begins to wind down, many people are running on empty.
Bodies are tired. Minds are overstimulated. Souls are quietly longing for stillness. Yet even at the edge of the year’s end, rest often feels conditional, something to be earned after deadlines are met, goals are achieved, and loose ends are tied.
We tell ourselves:
“I’ll rest after I finish this.”
“I can’t afford to slow down yet.”
“Next year, I’ll rest properly.”
But what if rest was never meant to be a reward?
What if rest is not the opposite of productivity, but the foundation of a healthy, faithful life?
Burnout rarely announces itself loudly. More often, it creeps in subtly:
In many spaces, especially faith and purpose-driven communities, burnout is often spiritualized or minimized. Exhaustion is mistaken for dedication. Overworking is praised as commitment. Rest is seen as optional, sometimes even indulgent.
But a life constantly poured out without being refilled eventually runs dry.
Long before modern conversations about wellness and work-life balance, rest was woven into creation itself.
God rested, not because He was tired, but because rest was meant to be a rhythm. A pause that dignifies work rather than diminishes it. A reminder that life is not sustained by effort alone.
Jesus, too, modeled rest. He withdrew from crowds. He stepped away from demands. He slept during storms. He invited the weary to come and rest—not after they had fixed everything, but as they were.
Rest, then, is not weakness.
It is obedience.
It is trust.
To rest is to acknowledge that the world does not collapse when you stop. That God remains God even when you slow down.
Despite knowing the value of rest, many still resist it.
Some fear being left behind.
Others tie their worth to output.
Some feel guilty doing nothing.
Others simply don’t know how to stop.
For many, rest feels unsafe because stillness brings thoughts, emotions, and questions we have learned to outrun. Noise becomes a coping mechanism. Busyness becomes a shield.
But avoidance is costly. What we refuse to face eventually demands attention often through burnout, illness, or emotional fatigue.
One of the greatest misconceptions about rest is that it is laziness dressed up nicely.
Rest is not apathy.
It is not disengagement from responsibility.
It is not the absence of purpose.
It is choosing to pause so that your yes remains meaningful.
It is creating margin so your calling does not become a burden.
It is honoring the limits God built into your humanity.
Even machines require downtime. How much more the human body, mind, and soul?
As the year closes, there is pressure to review, plan, assess, and prepare. While reflection is valuable, it should not come at the expense of rest.
Before rushing into vision boards and resolutions, there is wisdom in pausing.
Sometimes, the most spiritual thing you can do at the end of the year is stop striving and breathe.
Rest does not always mean escape or long vacations. It often begins with small, intentional choices:
Rest looks different for everyone, but its purpose remains the same: renewal.
Many people carry exhaustion from one year into the next, hoping new beginnings will magically fix old fatigue.
But a tired soul cannot fully embrace new vision.
The goal is not to enter the new year faster—but healthier. Not more ambitious but more aligned. Not louder but more grounded.
Rest positions you to receive, not just to produce.
As the year comes to an end, consider this invitation:
You do not have to earn rest.
You do not have to justify slowing down.
You do not have to wait until everything is perfect.
Rest is not a reward for the strong.
It is a gift for the human.
And perhaps the most faithful way to end the year is not by doing more but by trusting enough to stop.
Kunle
Lovely, theis is what i am look for
gphinol
We are committed to go more