One fabulous Thinker

  There's a moment that happens—maybe you've lived it—when you finally gather the courage to say the words out loud. You've been wrestling with them for weeks, maybe months. You've prayed about it until your knees were sore and your journal was full. You've listened for God's voice in the early morning quiet, in the middle of sleepless nights, in the sacred space between exhaustion and surrender. And then, finally, you heard it. Clear. Gentle. Unmistakable. "Rest." Not as a suggestion. Not as a someday-when-things-slow-down idea. But as an invitation. A command, even. A holy disruption to the pace you've been keeping, the schedule you've been maintaining, the version of yourself you've been performing. Because somewhere along the way, you bought into an illusion—the illusion that it was your job to hold everything and everyone together. A role God never asked you to carry. And rest was His way of saying: "Put it down. You were never ...