Sabbath.

Sabbath seems to be the gift that nobody wants. Including, sometimes, me.

If there is one set of moral imperatives that is universally understood to be timeless, even largely among those who don’t consider themselves Christians, I’m guessing it would be the Ten Commandments. So how many of those ten could you name right now? Don’t murder, don’t steal, don’t commit adultery… What else?

Here they are:

  1. No other gods before Me.

  2. No carved image or idol.

  3. No taking God’s name in vain.

  4. Remember the Sabbath. Really?

  5. Honor your father and mother.

  6. Do not murder.

  7. Do not commit adultery.

  8. Do not steal.

  9. Do not testify falsely.

  10. Do not covet.

 

We could spend some meaningful time unpacking the modern applications of these timeless truths, but let’s turn our attention to just the one: Sabbath.

Among modern Christ-followers we often substitute going to church as the contemporary equivalent of Sabbath-keeping. But these two things, both good of course, are substantially different. In fact, it’s not uncommon for well-meaning church activities to actually create obstacles to God’s original intention for Sabbath. How has that come to be…and how do we unwittingly rob ourselves of this great gift?

The original idea of the Sabbath was rest, pure and simple. Stop working. Even work that feels most pressing, most urgent. Particularly in an agrarian culture where the connection between labor and food was immediate, this was radical. As a result the Sabbath emerged as a profound and unprecedented declaration of trust (trust that God is the abundant Provider) and humility (that we are not our own Source).

Unfortunately we have endured some generations where the demands of religious legalism twisted God’s intent for rest into something more defined by sobriety and constraint. Practically, it looked like a prohibition on anything remotely fun. And who knows, maybe even the Israelites chafed and resisted this gift at the beginning. There is in us, to be sure, that which resists humility and asserts its own independence and power.

With our recovery from legalism, it’s easy to cast off old strictures and relegate anything Old Testament into the category of obsolete. This is how one of God’s kindest gifts has been cast aside in the name of liberty. Maybe our modern pathology of stress and striving might invite us to take a fresh look at the command to rest.

What might the gift of Sabbath look like today?

The first step is a no-brainer: stop working. Seriously. Draw a hard line there except for true emergencies. And yes, embrace your spiritual community in a worship gathering. Now where does a vision for rest take you? Maybe a gentle hike in the woods. Maybe reading a book by the fire. Maybe a Skype call with extended family. Maybe a nap. Silence and solitude are always good choices. Journaling. Reflection. Try going easy on entertainment and activity. Push off home projects to Saturday.

Everyone’s choices will be their own, but here are some of my personal guidelines:

  • If it feels like work, don’t do it.

  • If it feels renewing to the soul, do it.

  • If it feels like the other days of the week, don’t do it.

  • If it feels centering, wholesome, and deeply good, do it.

 

If I’m not careful it’s easy for me to wind up with a mental glut of all the “Sabbath activities” I could potentially fit into a given day. Funny, isn’t it! I’m still recovering from a lifetime of cultural programming and internal compulsion to get stuff done. Yet observing the Sabbath isn’t about getting all our spiritual stuff done; quite the contrary, it’s about detoxing from our inner angst and restlessness in order to embrace a more enduring truth: that we are no longer slaves.

Paul urges us with something approaching desperation in Galatians 5, “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.” Paradoxically, there is something in us that is actually reluctant to cast off our slavery. Our slavery to getting stuff done makes us feel ever-so-briefly powerful, yet that illusion vanishes in a moment, and we are catapulted forward into the next compulsive act.

When will we learn?

I learn—or better yet, I remember—when I receive the gift of Sabbath. I "re-member," I get reconnected. I remember who I am and whose I am. I remember who I’m not: I am not a human doing. I am a beloved child of God made to enjoy the presence of God in both the engagement and the withdrawal of healthy life rhythms.

 

ThriveTip

If the practice of an honest Sabbath is new for you, take one month and choose a weekly Sabbath day. While Sundays are traditional, it can be any day that most allows you the freedom the choose rest. For these four weekly respites, be ruthlessly intentional about resisting the clamor of doing and embrace the joy of being. Journal each week about your experience. At the end of your month, see if this isn’t a gift that you want to carry forward into the rest of your days!

 

Takeaway

Rediscover the delight of Rest.

Jerome DaleyComment