“Whatever you need to do to get through it.”

When I was young and in fairly good mental and physical health, this phrase sounded like the ultimate cop-out excuse for lazy people to avoid enduring hard things the “right” way.

But then, I went through an incredibly dark depression after my second encounter with cancer. The idea of taking my life inundated my thoughts in that pit, subtlety like fluttering butterflies in the distance but with the frequency and potency of rapid-fire machine guns. I was so spiritually weak that praying a full sentence felt too difficult to do as I lay in bed all day, every day, staring out the window into a blue sky I couldn’t see. So I turned to distractions – mostly TV. It was an escape that brought some color back into that pit, and I justified the days upon days bingeing Netflix and Hulu because, “whatever I need to do to get through this.”

TV was literally the only thing I believed I had within my grasp to help me survive. I believe some people reading this may judge me for such a statement, the same way I did when I was younger and healthier. I understand. I also believe that those who have been through a similar pit fully understand where I’m coming from when I string “TV” and “to survive” in one sentence. I am not saying it is right, but it was what it was for me in that moment.

I’m so thankful I haven’t returned back to that same pit (though I have had some run-ins with lesser-dark ones) but these days, my challenge is rest. Cancer has returned now for the third time, and I am tired and overwhelmed. Various medical appointments pepper my weekly schedule as I work 40+ hours a week. Every night I glance at the overflowing laundry basket and feel the crumbs under my feet on the way to bed and remember all the things I, yet again, failed to get done today. I sink into bed dreading the guilt and sense of failure I know will inevitably come around tomorrow. I am burning the wick on both ends, as is the hubs, and wonder how much longer I can continue living this way. When will our break come?

Some well-meaning people in my life recently encouraged me to take “me-time” to rest and “fill (my) bucket.” “After all, you need to be healthy in well in order to serve your family well,” they’d say. The invitation was tempting and the logic made sense, so I started making a mental self-care bucket list: Get a massage. Take a trip. Paint a mural. Go see standup comedy. Do a yoga class. Watch some more TV.

All of these things are fine. But it does nothing to change my reality, or help me endure through the hard. All they really are are temporary mental/emotional/physical escapes from my hard reality.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about how Jesus didn’t avoid hard things or suffering. He did the opposite and sought after them, and entered into them.

I’ve also been thinking a lot about the culture of today and its obsession with “self care.” Turn off the noise from the world and focus inward on yourself. Treat and pamper yourself. Stay in bed or bathtub; listen or read or watch or eat your favorite things; you do whatever your body/mind/spirit is telling you that you need. Take that vacation. Buy that gadget. Get that massage. Treat yo’ self.

I know the importance of pausing and resting. No one can go on and on without recharging. But is self-indulgence an adequate recharge? Is it even a re-charge at all?

The answer likely depends on who you’re working for. The Bible says that we can only have one master, and it is God, or the devil (who is master of the world and everything in it).

So if God is our Master, we are do to what he says – and that is to love him, and love others. In effect, it is to consider my life as nothing compared to the glory of the cross; it is to deny myself and think of others and their needs as more important than me and mine.

It is a completely obedient and selfless life. But how does anyone do it?

We look to Christ as our example.

The Bible does not tell of any account in which Jesus took a “rest and relaxation” boys trip into the mountains or sea with his disciples. There is no week or day or hour documented in which Jesus says, “good work boys – we’ve done more than enough of my Father’s work for the month, so let’s take a week away on the boat and just fish for a few days to chill.”

Rather, Jesus pressed in harder and deeper into the darkest nooks and crannies of the desert land. He went from town to town, seeking the hurting and rejected, and preaching the Good News of God’s wonderful plan of redemption for his people, whom he loved. It is easy to forget sometimes that he was fully human too, just like us. He had muscles and joints that likely ached from days of walking. He ate and slept and bathed and worked. He grew weary and needed rest.

But his self-care plan was much simpler than today’s world’s. He simply turned to his Father in prayer.

Man must not live by bread alone
But by every word that proceeds from
The mouth of God.

Come to me, all who are weary and
heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.

The LORD is my refuge and strength;
A very-present help in trouble.

Do not be anxious about anything
But in everything, through prayer and petition,
With thanksgiving,
Present your requests to God.
And the peace of God, which transcends
All human understanding,
Shall guard your hearts and minds in
Christ Jesus.

The Garden of Gethsemane was his self-care.
Withdrawing from the world was his self-care.
Daily abiding in and communion with his Father was his self-care.

Jesus was not deceived. He knew that his Father was the only source for rest, strength, peace, endurance, and love he needed for his exhaustingly difficult journey on this earth. Jesus did not take vacations – but he always knew where to plug in to receive all that he needed.

We do, too.