When Rest Becomes Trust: A Theology of Napping

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“The world doesn’t fall apart when you take a nap.”— Shauna Niequist

There’s something both comforting and convicting about that line. Comforting, because who doesn’t like a good nap? I know I do. How about you?

Here’s the unfortunate reality: most of us live like we secretly believe the world might unravel if we’re not holding it together. Sometimes it’s not about the world. It’s about whatever is stressing you.

We call it being responsible. But often, it’s just fear in work clothes.

The Fear of Letting Go

Rest feels risky. But, to close our eyes, even for a few minutes, is to surrender control. We’re not producing, fixing, replying, or managing. We’re trusting the world to keep turning without your supervision.

That’s faith disguised as a nap.

Psalm 127:2 puts it bluntly: “In vain you rise early and stay up late, toiling for food to eat — for he grants sleep to those he loves.”

It’s as if God is whispering, “I can run the universe while you rest.”

We say we believe that, but our calendars tell another story. Our exhaustion has become a badge of honor. We brag about being busy the way monks once bragged about fasting.

And yet, what if true faith looks less like striving and more like surrender? What if holiness sometimes looks like curling up under a blanket and trusting that you’re not holding the world together — God is?

Rest as Resistance

In a world that worships productivity, rest becomes an act of rebellion. When you take a nap, you’re not just closing your eyes — you’re defying a culture that says your worth is tied to your usefulness.

Jesus Himself napped in a boat during a storm (Mark 4:38). Think about that: the disciples are panicking, the waves are crashing, and Jesus is snoozing. Not because He didn’t care — but because He wasn’t anxious. His peace was rooted in trust, not control.

That’s the kind of rest that comes from knowing we’re safe in a story much bigger and more important than our to-do lists.

The World Will Keep Spinning

Here’s the hard truth: the world will keep spinning without you. Your job will function, your phone will survive unanswered notifications, and the sun will still rise even if you don’t.

I’m not suggesting you pull the covers over your head and call it “spiritual growth.”

There’s a big difference between avoiding your problems and resting in the middle of them.

Avoidance numbs you — it’s escape disguised as peace. Rest, on the other hand, restores you — it’s surrender that makes you strong again. One runs from life; the other catches its breath so it can re-enter life with clearer eyes and a steadier heart.

The nap isn’t the solution — it’s the pause that helps you remember you’re not the solution either.

God’s grace doesn’t need us to keep everything running. He doesn’t hand us the steering wheel of creation; He invites us to sit beside Him, rest our heads, and enjoy the ride.

Brennan Manning once wrote, “To live by grace means to acknowledge my whole life story, the light side and the dark. In admitting my fleshy side, I learn who I am and what God’s grace means.”

Rest does that, too — it confronts our flesh. It exposes how addicted we are to being needed, to being productive, to being the hero. And when we finally stop, even for a nap, we make space for grace to find us in our humanness.

Sabbath Isn’t Laziness

Sometimes we mistake rest for laziness, but Sabbath was never about doing nothing — it was about stopping our efforts to remember who’s actually in charge. It’s a rhythm of release.

When God rested on the seventh day, it wasn’t because He was tired. It was because He was satisfied. Creation was complete, and He called it good. We’re invited into that same rhythm: work, yes — but also the sacred pause that declares, “This is enough for today.”

Taking a nap, then, becomes a miniature Sabbath. A way of saying, “I’m not God, and that’s okay.”

The Invitation to Breathe

If you’ve been running on fumes, maybe this is your permission slip to stop. You’re not weak for needing rest — you’re human. And being human is holy. Yes. You heard me right. Being human is holy. Being human means you and I were made after His image and likeness. Religion has it wrong.

Jesus didn’t call us to burnout. He called us to come.

“Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

Rest isn’t a luxury; it’s a commandment written in compassion. It’s God’s way of saying, “You don’t have to keep proving your worth. You already have it.”

So take the nap. Let the dishes sit for a while. Let the text reply wait. The world won’t fall apart. In fact, you might find that when you wake up, it’s a little more beautiful than you remembered.

The Point: Rest isn’t retreat — it’s renewal. Every nap, every pause, every moment you choose peace over productivity is a way of practicing trust.

The world doesn’t fall apart when you take a nap. It quietly keeps spinning — held together not by your effort, but by His grace.

Now, I encourage you let Lauren Daigle’s song, “Rest in Your Arms,” finish this devotional:

© Gary L Ellis