The Hard Work of Rest
Rest can be hard work.
I know what you might be thinking -- "This guy gets a three-month Sabbatical, and then complains that it's hard work. Fair enough -- but at least hear me out.
Anyone can laze around and do nothing all day. That's not hard. But that's not rest either. This week past was week two of our Sabbatical, and the first week with nothing scheduled. No meetings. No activities. No agendas. No "have-to-be-somewheres." A typical work week -- without the work. Being a scheduled person, I set about creating a loose structure for each day. Reading and writing in the morning. Spending time with the family in the afternoon or evening. This week, that afternoon time included the now-famous "Mentos & Diet Coke" experiment; visiting a museum with my son (and then corn-dogs and shakes at Sonic afterwards!); a hike with my wife's sister & her family; and lots of time at the pool.
So where's the hard work in all of this rest?
As the days passed, I began to pay attention to the many demands for my time and energy, always tugging at my mind. Have you ever identified how many little demands there are on you in the course of a day? Even during a period of focused rest, there are always the voices of our world, calling for our response: Listening to Spotify, and hearing the advertisement: "Click on the banner now, to receive 30 minutes of ad-free music..." always makes me feel like I have to stop what I'm doing, and click. The red facebook notification alert, invites me to acknowledge some reaction, by someone, to something. The bills that need to be paid. The checkbook that needs to be balanced. The weeds that need to be pulled. The dishes that need to be done. And these are just the relatively minor events. What about children who deserve your attention? What about the expectations put on us by our boss? Can you relate?
What is the effect of these cumulative demands? These leave us, I believe, with a low-level sense of anxiety. We tell ourselves that if we could just get one more thing done, then we could sit and relax. We won't let ourselves enjoy recreation until we finish this, or check off that from our never-ending list. At our worst, we can even turn our leisure into a project to complete: "I really need to finish reading that book." "I really should make sure that I spend time with my wife for an hour this evening." And when it doesn't happen, the demands build --that low-level hum of demand builds, until it drowns out our peace.
One of the things that I've learned about rest came from a book, entitled "The Rest of God" by Mark Buchanan. Among other ideas he presents, he makes the case that rest is rooted in our ability and willingness to trust in the sovereignty of God -- and thus to rest in the assurance that God is in control. If we sincerely believe that the universe doesn't turn on our ability to get stuff done, but instead genuinely trust that God is in control of everything, how might that allow us to pull back from the stuff we don't get done? What might it look like if we didn't approach our days as an endless list of things we had to get done, but let our "to-do" list wait for another day, reminding ourselves that God is in control, that the universe will go on quite well without us?
Buchanan reminds us that there are two rationales given for Sabbath in the Old Testament -- and both are needed. The reason given for resting is derived both from creation, and redemption. We rest because God rested after creation, and we rest because God redeemed his people from slavery. (I'll reflect on the second rationale in some future blog post).
What does it mean that God rested on the seventh day? It's and odd idea, if you stop and think about it. Did God take a day off from running the universe? Did he take a much-needed snooze? Obviously not. He rested to establish a pattern for us. Rest, for God, meant that He ceased his creative work -- even as there was much yet to be done. God's rest meant pausing, even though the work wasn't (and never will be) complete.
Here's the important takeaway -- rest isn't optional. The fourth Commandment isn't a suggestion, and it isn't done away with even in the New Testament. That means that all of us - every last one of us -- needs to take to heart the importance of Sabbath rhythm. That doesn't mean enforcing a somewhat arbitrary code of rules, but it means learning to recognize that even though our work isn't done (because it never will be), we learn to set it aside for later. It means that we et ourselves enjoy whatever the moment brings, be it a hike with family (as we did this weekend, with family in town), through worship (something also that God desires of us), or enjoying a hobby.
And that's why rest isn't easy. It's not natural to us. It's not innate. Ultimately, rest isn't something achieved as much as it is received. It's a gift, given to us as we trust that God is in control. That in Christ, all things -- from the galaxies of the universe to the items listed on a to do list -- hold together. It's learning to trust this, that we find our rest.
I know what you might be thinking -- "This guy gets a three-month Sabbatical, and then complains that it's hard work. Fair enough -- but at least hear me out.
Anyone can laze around and do nothing all day. That's not hard. But that's not rest either. This week past was week two of our Sabbatical, and the first week with nothing scheduled. No meetings. No activities. No agendas. No "have-to-be-somewheres." A typical work week -- without the work. Being a scheduled person, I set about creating a loose structure for each day. Reading and writing in the morning. Spending time with the family in the afternoon or evening. This week, that afternoon time included the now-famous "Mentos & Diet Coke" experiment; visiting a museum with my son (and then corn-dogs and shakes at Sonic afterwards!); a hike with my wife's sister & her family; and lots of time at the pool.
So where's the hard work in all of this rest?
As the days passed, I began to pay attention to the many demands for my time and energy, always tugging at my mind. Have you ever identified how many little demands there are on you in the course of a day? Even during a period of focused rest, there are always the voices of our world, calling for our response: Listening to Spotify, and hearing the advertisement: "Click on the banner now, to receive 30 minutes of ad-free music..." always makes me feel like I have to stop what I'm doing, and click. The red facebook notification alert, invites me to acknowledge some reaction, by someone, to something. The bills that need to be paid. The checkbook that needs to be balanced. The weeds that need to be pulled. The dishes that need to be done. And these are just the relatively minor events. What about children who deserve your attention? What about the expectations put on us by our boss? Can you relate?
What is the effect of these cumulative demands? These leave us, I believe, with a low-level sense of anxiety. We tell ourselves that if we could just get one more thing done, then we could sit and relax. We won't let ourselves enjoy recreation until we finish this, or check off that from our never-ending list. At our worst, we can even turn our leisure into a project to complete: "I really need to finish reading that book." "I really should make sure that I spend time with my wife for an hour this evening." And when it doesn't happen, the demands build --that low-level hum of demand builds, until it drowns out our peace.
One of the things that I've learned about rest came from a book, entitled "The Rest of God" by Mark Buchanan. Among other ideas he presents, he makes the case that rest is rooted in our ability and willingness to trust in the sovereignty of God -- and thus to rest in the assurance that God is in control. If we sincerely believe that the universe doesn't turn on our ability to get stuff done, but instead genuinely trust that God is in control of everything, how might that allow us to pull back from the stuff we don't get done? What might it look like if we didn't approach our days as an endless list of things we had to get done, but let our "to-do" list wait for another day, reminding ourselves that God is in control, that the universe will go on quite well without us?
Buchanan reminds us that there are two rationales given for Sabbath in the Old Testament -- and both are needed. The reason given for resting is derived both from creation, and redemption. We rest because God rested after creation, and we rest because God redeemed his people from slavery. (I'll reflect on the second rationale in some future blog post).
What does it mean that God rested on the seventh day? It's and odd idea, if you stop and think about it. Did God take a day off from running the universe? Did he take a much-needed snooze? Obviously not. He rested to establish a pattern for us. Rest, for God, meant that He ceased his creative work -- even as there was much yet to be done. God's rest meant pausing, even though the work wasn't (and never will be) complete.
Here's the important takeaway -- rest isn't optional. The fourth Commandment isn't a suggestion, and it isn't done away with even in the New Testament. That means that all of us - every last one of us -- needs to take to heart the importance of Sabbath rhythm. That doesn't mean enforcing a somewhat arbitrary code of rules, but it means learning to recognize that even though our work isn't done (because it never will be), we learn to set it aside for later. It means that we et ourselves enjoy whatever the moment brings, be it a hike with family (as we did this weekend, with family in town), through worship (something also that God desires of us), or enjoying a hobby.
And that's why rest isn't easy. It's not natural to us. It's not innate. Ultimately, rest isn't something achieved as much as it is received. It's a gift, given to us as we trust that God is in control. That in Christ, all things -- from the galaxies of the universe to the items listed on a to do list -- hold together. It's learning to trust this, that we find our rest.
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