Hire
Writers
Editors
Home Tour About Read What's New Help Forums Join
My Account Login
Shop
Save
Support
E
Book
Store
Learn
About
Jesus
  

Four Ways For A Christian Writer To Win A Publishing Package HERE



The HOME for Christian writers! The Home for Christian Writers!
The Official Writing Challenge

BACK TO
CHALLENGE
MAIN

INSTRUCTIONS

how it works
submission rules
guidelines for
choosing a level

ENTRIES

submit your entry
read current entries
read past entries
challenge winners



Our Daily Devotional HERE
Place it on your site or
receive it daily by email.





TRUST JESUS TODAY

TRY THE TEST



Share
how it works   Submit

Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 – Advanced)
Topic: Rest (01/17/13)

TITLE: Your Rest
By Doug Spurling
01/23/13


 LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
 SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
 ADD TO MY FAVORITES

Remember when you were small? I’d call you in from the backyard, we’d sit on the floor and have lunch, your favorite; peanut butter and jelly with tomato soup and lots of crackers. And then, I’d tell you it was time to rest so you’d grow big and strong. You’d complain about having to nap, but in the end I’d always win because you’d fall asleep watching Captain Kangaroo.

As you grew, when you’d come home from school I’d make you a snack, your favorite again, and then you’d run out to play. After supper and chores and homework, I’d say, “Bedtime, you need your rest, so you’ll be sharp in school.” You’d complain about it being so early, but in the end I’d always win because you’d fall asleep before I finished reading you a story.

And then, there was the time you came down with the fever. You asked “Daddy, am I going to heaven—to be with Mama?”
I said, “Not for a long time son. You’ll get well; you just need your rest.” Sure enough you recovered and grew to be a fine young man.

Now I sit, resting weary bones on this old familiar bench. Marble sentinels stand guard over loved ones; their cadence; R.I.P.

Words I’ve heard too often, rest in peace, echo in my mind. I wonder, what does that really mean?

And then, a man sits down and asks, “How ya doin’?”

I stare at the fresh dirt and ask, “What’s it mean, rest in peace?”

“Well,” he said. “There’s a rest we give our bodies, like naps, to grow big and strong, and plenty of rest, so we’ll be sharp in school. And then, there’s the extra rest we need when we’re ill so we can heal. That kind of rest helps our bodies mend.” And then he patted a book in his lap. “But, this kind of rest is different.”

I started to ask if we knew each other, but he continued.

“This is rest for the soul. And it’s the most important kind of rest. It heals broken hearts, restores hope and provides peace. It’s available in this life,” he nodded toward the marble, “and the next.” Then, he looked down. “But, few ever find it.”

“Peace?” I whispered and looked at the gravestone nearest me.

I taught you all you needed to know about getting your piece of the pie, but nothing about peace in your soul. The marker says, Rest in peace, but I don’t know if you ever will. I failed you. If there’s rest for the soul—it’ll never be mine. I don’t deserve it. I’m so sorry my child.

I blinked and pain leaked down my cheek. “That’s my boy” I nodded toward the fresh dirt and simple stone. “Thirteen months ago was the last time we spoke. He called, crying. Divorce papers in hand, wife and kids were gone, something about being married to his job.”

I tasted salty wet on my lip. “I told him to get some rest because, everything looks better after a good night’s rest. He screamed into the phone, ‘A nap won’t fix this Dad! I don’t need sleep. I need peace!’ Click. That was the last time I heard from him. I tried calling. He never answered. And then three days ago, I got the call from the hospital.”

The man opened his Bible.
“Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me’ for I am meek and lowly in heart” and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

“Sounds like something my wife would have read—before she died giving birth to my son.” I clenched my jaw and swallowed hard. “After that it was just him and me—and God? Well I didn’t have much time for him—I was too busy raising my kid. But, that’s my fault, not my boys.”

The man’s smile glowed. “Your son is with Jesus. I know. I heard him pray, watched him change, and carried him Home.”

Without thinking, I closed my eyes and hit my knees. “Lord, I’m so weary. I want…I need to come back to you. I want to see my family again. Please let me enter Your rest.”

I opened my eyes, the man was gone...but a peaceful rest in my soul still remains.


The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
Accept Jesus as Your Lord and Savior Right Now - CLICK HERE
JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.


This article has been read 204 times
Member Comments
Member Date
CD (Camille) Swanson 01/25/13
Wow! This was an incredibly poignant story, my eyes welled up at the end. I didn't know at first what was happening, then I got it very quickly.

Beautifully written, and beautifully told. Excellent job wiht this amazing piece.

God Bless~
Vicki J. Cypcar01/26/13
I really enjoyed this. Great job.

Jan Ackerson 01/29/13
Creative and moving. There's a bit of a jolt when the narrative changes from addressing the son to the present tense encounter with the man in the cemetery.The character of the father is very well-developed.