Hitting the Retirement Reset Button
"By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work." - Genesis 2:2 NIV
“So, what are your plans once you retire?” When I announced my January retirement last fall to coworkers and clients alike, that question came up often. And I did have plans: to take the first full month to decompress, then begin working on projects and planning trips with my wife in the early spring. What I quickly discovered, however, was that my expectations for that first year—really, for those first months—were shaped by decades of constant availability and productivity. My plans weren’t just too ambitious; they were not physically, emotionally, or spiritually healthy, rooted in a work rhythm that never truly paused, even after hours or on weekends.
Over time, the nature of my work had changed as email, texting, and the expectation of immediate responses became routine, often extending well beyond the traditional workday. While working remotely removed the strain of commuting, it also eliminated the face‑to‑face huddles that once led to quick solutions, replacing them with long waits for replies. At the same time, increasing internal and external client pressures, compounded by shrinking resources, blurred the line between work time and personal time. Layered onto all of this were the health challenges my wife and I were facing. I knew I needed to retire; what I didn’t realize was that I also needed to reset.
Jesus understood the need to reset. In Mark’s Gospel, chapter 6, after Jesus sent the apostles out two by two, they returned eager to tell him all they had done. I imagine they were exhausted from the travel, the preaching, and the weight of that work. Jesus, aware of our need for rest in all its forms, invited them to pause, and they went by boat to a solitary place. Scripture reminds us that this rhythm of work and rest is woven into creation itself. Genesis chapter 2 tells us that even God, after creating all that exists, rested—a divine reset.
That realization came more slowly for me. As the first month of my retirement wound down, I began to understand that I was not ready to take on any projects, regardless of size. Doctor appointments, physical therapy, and medical procedures for both my wife and me made travel plans unrealistic. Through the encouragement of The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry by John Mark Comer, along with the reflections of a retired YouTuber, I came face to face with a simple truth: one month was not enough. I needed more time—much more. I needed to reset my sleep patterns, my eating habits, my time with my wife, my time with God, and my time alone. Like the disciples stepping away with Jesus, I realized I needed to push the reset button.
What changed first was not my schedule, but my awareness. I began to notice how deeply ingrained my sense of urgency had become, and how difficult it was to sit without planning the next task or measuring the day by productivity. Mornings no longer needed to begin with a goal beyond being present. Silence, once avoided, slowly became restorative. I learned to listen—to my body as it asked for rest, to my spirit as it asked for attention, and to God, whose voice had often been crowded out by deadlines and demands.
What surprised me was not how tired I was—I knew that well enough—but how deeply that fatigue had shaped the way I lived and worked. Over time, urgency became normal, and productivity set the pace of each day. Stepping away helped me see how even meaningful work can crowd out rest when stillness is missing. Adopting a reset mindset did not change everything overnight, but it changed what mattered, and that made the difference.
The reset I needed was the one God modeled in creation and Jesus practiced with his disciples—a reminder that rest is not optional, but foundational.
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