Get Away With Me; He said…

There’s a line of Scripture that keeps haunting me lately, not like a command but like a love note whispered in the dark:

“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)

And honestly? I am tired. Maybe you are too. Not the kind of tired that a weekend nap fixes, but the kind that sinks into your bones, the kind that makes you smile in public and ache in private. That tired.

We live in a world that demands everything from us; show up strong, stay productive, smile even when you’re breaking. And so we keep running. Running to keep up. Running to prove ourselves. Running so no one sees the cracks. But somewhere in the middle of all that running, our souls start whispering: “I can’t do this anymore.”

That’s where His words hit me different: “Get away with Me.”

It sounds like the kind of love you don’t resist. The kind that makes you drop your defenses, pack up your pride, and run away, not because you’re weak, but because you’ve finally found Someone safe enough to collapse into.

“Get away with Me.”

And I think about how real life looks when we don’t. We stay clenched. We scroll late into the night looking for something to numb us. We show up at work exhausted, rehearsing our anxieties on loop. We pour out of an empty cup, hoping nobody notices it’s dry. And if we’re honest, sometimes even our prayers feel heavy, like we’re trying to get the formula right so maybe God will hear us.

But He’s not asking for performance. He’s not asking for perfection. He’s not even asking for answers. He’s just saying: “Get away with Me. Let Me show you how to take a real rest.”

Real rest isn’t just sleep. It’s unclenching your fists and letting Him hold what you can’t fix.
It’s realizing you don’t have to carry the weight of everyone’s expectations.
It’s letting go of the timing you demanded and trusting His timing won’t fail you.
It’s finally breathing again, not because life is easy, but because you’re no longer holding it alone.

And maybe, just maybe, this is what September is about: not striving harder, not proving stronger, not running faster. But slowing down enough to hear Him say, “Come away. I’m not asking you to escape life. I’m asking you to recover your life — in Me.”

So, beloved, let this month be holy ground. Take off the armor, the exhaustion, the “I’m fine.” Walk barefoot into His arms. Rest is not weakness. Rest is worship. Rest is recovery.

And in His arms, you are already home.

This blessed you? Drop a comment in the comments.