Then Jesus said, “Let’s get away from the crowds for a while and rest.” (Mark 6:31 NLT)

    It’s 6:55 p.m. and I’m lying in bed dressed in pajama pants, a long sleeve knit shirt, and an old pair of athletic socks. I’m comfy, warm, and content. To my mom, this must appear as a gross aberration. To my wife, it is a bit of surprise; but it is one that she has seen more and more over the last few years. For the first 4 decades of my life, I was a fall into bed dead-tired in my skivvies sort of guy — no wasted time or motion on putting on or taking off pajamas. Certainly there was no time for lounging around in loose fitting, comfortable bed clothes — especially not before bed time.

    You see, I grew up in a house with what my mom calls four Type A males, and that was on the day she had given us all a Valium. Usually our motors revved at redline all the time, and Type A was a come down in intensity. Relaxing was a sin second only to blasphemy, and at least blasphemy was a sin of action; relaxing was a sin of omission.

    My dad operated on two theories. The first theory was:

    Boys have a certain amount of testosterone that has to be burned off everyday or they are not tolerable, much less moral.

    So he made up work for us to do to accomplish the necessary daily burn. While I have come to accept this theory, I do think he was a little berserk about his application of it. The second theory was:

    Male objects at rest must be immediately put into motion or they will instantly degenerate into lazy, non-productive, slobs.

    In application of this theory, if dad caught us lying on the couch doing nothing, he immediately had a job for us to do, and it had to be done that instant. Not 5 minutes later. Not in a minute. It had to be done THEN!

    So when I grew up and went on “relaxing” vacations, I would come home more exhausted than when I left. I would cram golfing, fishing, swimming with the kids, a nice walk, cards, and reading a book all into one day — each day — of my “vacation.” My wife thought she had married a lunatic. Problem was, she did.

My wife thought she had married a lunatic.

    Something changed when our oldest went to college. I don’t think I suddenly got more tired; I just grew tired of never relaxing. It’s hard to stop and smell the roses when you have to smell more of them than anyone else, identify their point of origin, and tell everybody within earshot 6 fun facts about each species of rose. Suddenly genus and species became less important and the smell of one rose became more precious. Somewhere along the way, I realized you have to actually stop — not briefly pause — to truly smell a rose!

    I’m not sure if it was my wife’s example or her prayers that got me. She comes from a long line of relaxers. I’ve come to learn that relaxers are not to be confused with lazy people. Relaxers work hard and relax easy. For them, relaxing is a spiritual grace that happens, not a discipline that has to be enforced. Relaxing is what God did on the Seventh Day. To relax is to share a holy moment with the Creator. Relaxing occurs best among family while wearing loose fitting clothes. Most importantly, there is no agenda or time clock in relaxing. There is certainly no concern about testosterone. While there is a time to burn off the excess, there is also a time to relax and let God bring us grace.

    So here I sit in my pajama pants, long sleeve knit shirt, and old athletic socks. I’m propped up in bed relaxing. The sounds of family — running bath water, the turning of book pages, and gentle unhurried breathing mingle with the white noise of the heater and the whoosh of the ceiling fan. It is a moment of grace — one to be savored and cherished. And while it doesn’t carry the harried joy of babies cooing, laughing, or crying, it is no less precious... no less significant... and certainly no less holy.

A relaxed attitude lengthens life; jealousy rots it away. (Proverbs 14:30 NLT)