Rest my soul from all your worry

Rest my soul from all your worry

Bible Text: That night the Lord appeared to [Isaac]. (Genesis 26:24)

It was the same night Isaac went to Beersheba. Do you think this revelation from God was an accident? Do you think the time of it was an accident? Do you believe it could have happened any other night as well as this one? If so, you are grievously mistaken. Why did it come to Isaac the night he reached Beersheba? Because that was the night he reached rest.

In his old land, he had been tormented. There had been a whole series of petty quarrels over the ownership of insignificant wells. There is nothing like little worries, particularly when there are many of them. Because of these little worries, even after the strife was over, the place held bad memories for Isaac. Therefore he was determined
to leave and seek a change of scenery. He pitched his tent far away from the place of his former strife. That very night the revelation came.

God spoke to him when there was no inner storm. He could not speak to Isaac when his mind was troubled.
God’s voice demands the silence of the soul. Only in the quiet of the spirit could Isaac hear the garments of his God brush by him. His still night became his shining night. My soul, have you pondered these words: “Be still, and know”
(Ps. 46:10)? In the hour of distress, you cannot hear the answer to your prayers. How often has the answer seemed to come much later? The heart heard no reply during the moment of its crying, its thunder, its earthquake, and its fire.

But once the crying stopped, once the stillness came, once your hand refrained from knocking on the iron gate, and once a concern for other lives broke through the tragedy of your own life, the long-awaited reply appeared. You must rest, O soul, to receive your heart’s desire. Slow the beating of your heart over concerns for your personal care. Place the storm of your individual troubles on God’s altar of everyday trials, and on the same night, the Lord will appear to you. His rainbow will extend across the subsiding flood, and in your stillness, you will hear everlasting music.

Author: George Matheson – Culled from Streams in the Desert