Burley’s Bed (is Me)

Burley’s Bed (Is Me)

Eleven-week-old Burley plays hard. And when he’s played long enough, he just quits. He sighs without subtlety, flops his 16.6 puppy pounds down wherever he happens to be, and burrows in to rest. His eyes flutter briefly, then close, his breathing gets soft and even, and he makes his bed where he finds it. For now, he likes my lap. And I let him rest there because when he’s fully grown, he’s going to be way more dog than I have lap.

I like to watch Burley while he sleeps. It’s the only time I can really study him—see the satin smoothness of his coat and the white “Got Milk?” stain across his muzzle and silky throat. While he’s asleep, I can examine to my heart’s content his mismatched foot pads and the velvet tips of his ears. He quickly gets heavy, but I hesitate to shift his weight to the floor—both because I hate to wake him and because I know this sweet-boy stage will not last long. So I let my sleeping dog lie.

Burley’s ability to rest is instructive to me. Rest is surrender. Rest is undefended release. To rest is to trust the bed on which you recline—and for now, Burley’s bed is me. The place I go for rest is Jesus. His is the chest on which I lean hard in weariness or fear or trouble, and in his comforting presence, I sleep like a baby. He lets me linger there for as long as I need to, and his lap is never off limits. I’m never shooed or shoved away.

I didn’t always run there the way I do today. I felt far too grown up to retreat to such a childish place. But every hour older I become, the more I need (and love) the tenderness and security of his arms. “Curl up here,” he seems to say. “You’re safe. And I won’t make you move until you’re ready, or put you down until you’re sure you can stand.”

In love and mercy, Christ Jesus lets his sleeping child lie. And unlike my Burley boy, I’ll never outgrow the welcome of that precious space.

Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest.

Matthew 11:28, MSG