Rest as Discipleship

Sermon preached Sunday, July 9, 2023, the Sixth Sunday after Pentecost, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA. 

This past Tuesday was the 4^th of July, which means there was a lot of talk about FREEDOM. Freedom is one of the things we value the most in this country, enshrined in our founding documents. We talk so much about freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom of the press—it is one of our most highly treasured aspects of what it means to be a citizen of the United States.

As Christians, though, we know that we do not live in a vacuum. We are in relationship with the rest of God’s creation and therefore our freedom is not as individualistic as our culture sometimes portrays it. Martin Luther put it this way: “A Christian is an utterly free man, lord of all, subject to none. A Christian is an utterly dutiful man, servant of all, subject to all.” (Freedom of a Christian)

We are utterly free and subject to none—but simultaneously, we are servant of all and subject to all. This is an excellent, concise way to understand what it means to be free in Christ. In Christ, we have freedom from sin, freedom from the pressure to be perfect, freedom from the strain of having to work for our own salvation. At the same time, our calling as children and disciples of God means that we are interconnected to each other and the rest of this world. We cannot ignore needs or cries of pain. We are called to care for and look out for one another.

Even though this calling is based in freedom, it is not an easy one. There are ups and downs and struggles. Although we need not work for our salvation, we know that we are called to care for others and work towards justice—and, unfortunately, that is the kind of work that never ends.

But God knows that. God’s know that our calling weighs on us—and God knows that its not the only thing that weighs on us. We bear the weight of others’ expectations of us. We bear the weight of our expectations of ourselves. We bear the weight of financial stress and anxiety about the world’s problems. We bear the weight of political divisions and cultural divides. We bear the weight of trying to be followers of Christ and yet knowing that we will fall short.

God knows all of this. And, still, Jesus offers words of solace: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

Doesn’t that just sound lovely? Don’t you almost want to just close your eyes and have those words wash over you? How wonderful does it feel to have your heavy burdens leave your shoulders and be taken on by God?

It got me thinking—what are some of the ways in which this happens? How is it that we can release the things that are stressing us and weighing us down? There are lots of ways, certainly, and they vary a lot from person to person. We all have different ways that we de-stress or reset. …but there are also some ways that our faith provides that we know can helps us connect with God and let God take some of what we’re carrying.

How about prayer? Prayer helps us center ourselves. We release our worries and ask for God’s guidance. We take the time to try and hear God’s voice speaking to us. Prayer can help us focus, almost like the list of things you write out before bed so that you can finally get to sleep: we offer up our mental load. And this isn’t always the case, but it can be a time set apart, a space set away—a pause in the work.

The same can be said for the study of scripture. While scripture study can happen pretty much anywhere, taking time to open our Bibles or read a devotional or pull up a passage on our phones can create a break in an otherwise hectic time. Whether we are on our own or in discussion with others, reading God’s Word grounds us when the world can be pulling us in all too many directions.

When we gather for worship, it is like we are amplifying the effect of individual prayer and Bible study. When we do it together, we lean on each other; we learn from each other; we support each other in the work we are engaged in. The people in this community remind us that we are not alone in following Jesus, that we are not alone in being disciples.

That font, the place of baptism, marks our entrance here and marks the place where we become the Body of Christ. The font is a constant reminder that we are united with each other and with Christ in this Gospel-centered activity.

What’s more, the meal we share at the table sustains us week after week. Even though we only have a small piece of bread and a little bit of wine, we are filled to the brim with Christ’s presence and our hunger and thirst—for a time—are satiated. This meal fuels our discipleship.

None of us has an unlimited supply of energy and if we are to truly live into the freedom Christ has given us, we will need to also take time to reconnect with God—time to lay down our burdens and feel our faith be strengthened and grown. The work is important, but so is the rest. There’s a reason why God modeled Sabbath for us in creation and why Jesus found his own places of re-connection during his ministry on earth. We can’t do it alone, and we can’t do it with God.

Come unto Christ, and you will find rest for your souls.

Amen.

Freedom and Rest

Sermon preached Sunday, July, 5, 2020, the Fifth Sunday after Pentecost, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA.

Yesterday was the 4^th of July, which means there was a lot of talk about FREEDOM. Freedom is one of the things we value the most in this country, enshrined in our founding documents. We talk so much about freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom of the press—it is one of our most highly treasured aspects of what it means to be a citizen of the United States.

As Christians, though, we know that we do not live in a vacuum. We are in relationship with the rest of God’s creation and therefore our freedom is not as individualistic as our culture sometimes portrays it. Martin Luther put it this way: “A Christian is an utterly free man, lord of all, subject to none. A Christian is an utterly dutiful man, servant of all, subject to all.” (Freedom of a Christian)

We are utterly free and subject to none—but simultaneously, we are servant of all and subject to all. This is an excellent, concise way to understand what it means to be free in Christ. In Christ, we have freedom from sin, freedom from the pressure to be perfect, freedom from the strain of having to work for our own salvation. At the same time, our calling as children and disciples of God means that we are interconnected to each other and the rest of this world. We cannot ignore needs or cries of pain. We are called to care for and look out for one another.

Even though this calling is based in freedom, it is not an easy one. There are ups and downs and struggles. Although we need not work for our salvation, we know that we are called to care for others and work towards justice—and, unfortunately, that is the kind of work that never ends.

But God knows that. God’s know that our calling weighs on us—and God knows that its not the only thing that weighs on us. We bear the weight of others’ expectations of us. We bear the weight of our expectations of ourselves. We bear the weight of financial stress and anxiety about the world’s problems. We bear the weight of a pandemic that has turned our lives upside down and is still not slowing. We bear the weight of trying to be followers of Christ and yet knowing that we will fall short.

God knows all of this. And, still, Jesus offers words of solace: “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

Doesn’t that just sound lovely? Don’t you almost want to just close your eyes and have those words wash over you? How wonderful does it feel to have your heavy burdens leave your shoulders and be taken on by God?

It got me thinking—what are some of the ways in which this happens? How is it that we can release the things that are stressing us and weighing us down? There are lots of ways, certainly, and they vary a lot from person to person. We all have different ways that we de-stress or reset. …but there are also some ways that our faith provides that we know can helps us connect with God and let God take some of what we’re carrying.

Prayer helps us center ourselves. We release our worries and ask for God’s guidance. We take the time to try and hear God’s voice speaking to us. This isn’t always the case, but it can be a time set apart, a space set away—a pause in the work.

The same can be said for the study of scripture. While scripture study can happen pretty much anywhere, taking time to open our Bibles or read a devotional or pull up a passage on our phones can create a break in an otherwise hectic time.

When we gather for worship, it is like we are amplifying the effect of individual prayer and Bible study. When we do it together, we lean on each other; we learn from each other; we support each other in the work we are engaged in. The people in this community remind us that we are not alone in following Jesus, that we are not alone in being disciples. The font is a constant reminder that we are united with each other and with Christ in this Gospel-centered activity.

What’s more, the meal we share at the table sustains us week after week. Even though we only have a small piece of bread and a little bit of wine, we are filled to the brim with Christ’s presence and our hunger and thirst—for a time—are satiated. This meal fuels our discipleship.

None of us has an unlimited supply of energy and if we are to truly live into the freedom Christ has given us, we will need to also take time to reconnect with God—time to lay down our burdens and feel our faith be strengthened and grown.

Come unto Christ, and you will find rest for your souls.

Amen.

Unbound

Sermon preached Sunday, August 25, 2019 at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. Audio for recent sermons can be found here.

Imagine, if you will, what life must have been for this woman in the Gospel text I just read. For eighteen years she has been bent over. And we tend to picture her as an old woman, but we don’t know that. For all we know, she should be in the prime of her life, but instead is struggling every day. Maybe she has been this way since childhood.

For most of us, this isn’t our reality. Picture it. I won’t make you all actually try it out, but really imagine what it would be like if you were almost permanently bent over like this.

You wouldn’t be able to see too much, would you? Your line of sight would be far lower than you are probably used to it being. Even trying to look ahead would be so much more difficult than simply looking down at your feet. …so you’d probably spend most of your time looking down at your feet. And others would probably end up looking right past you, or looking right over the top of you. It would be so easy to be ignored, to go unnoticed, to get used to the idea that no one notices you and no one sees you.

Imagine this woman’s surprise, then, on this Sabbath day in the synagogue. I imagine she is going to hear the teachers, to hear the word of God read from the Torah or the prophets. Going out in public this way is likely not easy: she is stigmatized because of her condition and probably physically exhausted from the effort it takes to get there. She is going for herself, assuming that no one will pay her any mind. She’s wrong, though. She is noticed. She is seen. Jesus sees her and changes her life. I don’t even know if she wanted this to happen, but it did.

This woman is bound up. Jesus compares her physical problems with an ox or donkey being tied up. In fact, Jesus even uses the same word. The work animals are tied up and this woman has been bound for eighteen long years. She has been. She’s not anymore. Because Jesus doesn’t look past her. Jesus sees her, lays his hands on her, and immediately releases her. All of a sudden, she is restored to wholeness and to her community.

This is the work of Christ. Healing. Restoration. And it’s not just for this woman or for people we hear stories of in the Bible. It’s for all of us.

We may or may not be physically suffering like this woman. We may or may not be in need of a miracle. But I have known what it means to be bound. I imagine that you have, too.

Perhaps you’ve been bound by feelings of guilt because of something you did, or something you failed to do. This is the feeling that keeps you up late at night replaying conversations or events in your mind trying to change the outcome. This is the feeling that paralyzes you from moving forward because you are so wracked with shame.

Or maybe that’s not it at all. Perhaps you’ve been bound by the expectations of others. Your life is dictated and planned out according to the needs of others and not your own. Your own desires and passions are pushed to the backburners as you meet the demands put on you. You strive to be the perfect child, the perfect student, the perfect parent, the perfect spouse, the perfect employee, the perfect Christian, the perfect person and, in the end, you have no freedom to simply be yourself, perfect or otherwise.

Or maybe it really is physical. Maybe you are bound by your body, facing the reality that things you used to be able to do you can no longer do. Maybe your body has never done the things you want it to. Maybe you have physical limitations that effect the way you have to live your day-to-day life.

Jesus sees us. Jesus sees us and calls us over and sets us free. …but that freedom may not look like we expect it to.

We may not immediately see a change in our physical abilities, but that doesn’t mean that restoration and wholeness isn’t happening. It could happen through a community that works to make everything accessible and inviting. It could happen through a new technique or therapy that brings greater quality of life. I believe in miracles, but there’s a reason why they’re miracles: they don’t happen all the time. If they did, they wouldn’t be miraculous. But there are moments of healing that transcend our limited imagination and change lives.

We could be set free by the knowledge that we are enough just as we are. We don’t need to be held to unrealistic and damaging expectations because we were created as a beloved child of God that is all we ever need to be. If we struggle sometimes to be everything to everyone and the “perfect” example, Jesus reminds us that we are already God’s perfect creation.

And, yes, it could be that we are set free from our guilt and shame. Every week, we lay our sins before God. We may even do it more often, praying before bed or throughout the day, confessing the ways in which we have wronged our neighbor or ourselves. And every week, without exception, God hears those confessions and forgives us. Every week, I proclaim the Word of God that in Christ, your sins are taken away and you are made new. Instead of replaying the same mistakes over and over, perhaps we might try reminding ourselves that we are always loved and that we still have so many chances to do something different the next time.

Jesus sees us. Jesus sets us free. So, what are we going to do about it?

Our first reaction might be praise and thanksgiving—it’s a great place to start! Our incredible, amazing, loving God does so much for us, and it is only natural for us to respond with joy. The text says that, “immediately [the woman] stood up straight and began praising God.” Praise and thanks and sharing with others what God has done for us is a natural and beautiful response to God’s work.

That’s a great place to start, but we could go further. We could take the energy of this praise and thanksgiving and put it to work in service of God’s mission in the world. Jesus sees us. Jesus sets us free. What if we tried, in our own imperfect way, to do the same? Maybe not set people free, but to remind them that God already has?

Seeing people, though, this is where we really struggle. How often do we “not see” the person asking for money outside the grocery store? How often do we plan events and “not see” that the space or activities will exclude people who are physically unable to participate? How often do we use “insider language” in the church and “not see” people who don’t understand when we use words or acronyms that have become common place for us, or refer to a space like Karns Hall by the Pavilion, it’s previous name? Unfortunately, we are all too good at “not seeing” our neighbors, but with the grace of God our eyes are opened and all of us are freed.

Jesus sees all. Jesus frees all. All are seen by God and, God-willing, we can work to make it so that all are seen by the Church. Amen.

A Chance to Breathe

On the slim chance that you came to this site in the past few weeks hoping for updated sermons or other postings from me and were disappointed, I’m sorry.

Beginning on November 2nd, six members of the congregation I serve died within six weeks of each other and their services, compounded with Thanksgiving, Christmas, and the New Year meant that anything not absolutely essential was pushed to the back burner, including this site.

I’m back now, with backdated sermons posted and more pages read in my latest book and I feel like I finally have a change to breathe. I am beyond grateful that Lent begins late this year (Ash Wednesday is on March 6th, which at least gives me another week or two before I begin planning for the new season).

In a way, this January is a Sabbath. A time to slow down and collect the scattered thoughts and plans and ideas I keep finding scribbled on random post-it notes or in the margins of meeting agendas. There is a lot of work to do, certainly, but none of it is so time-sensitive that it must be done RIGHT NOW…and so I am streching and filling my lungs with air and embracing the weeks ahead.

As our Jewish siblings might say, “Shabbat Shalom.”

Sabbath Peace.

It is divine.

Reminded of the Mission

Sermon preached Sunday, July 22, 2018, the Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. 

It doesn’t happen often, but I realized that I’ve never actually preached on today’s lectionary texts. Three years ago, I was out of town at a conference, and six years ago, I had just finished my internship year and was spending the summer working at my camp in California. One might think that would make this morning’s sermon easier to write: after all, I don’t have to search for a new angle, it’s all fresh and new…but to be honest, I struggled a bit. Because I’ve never preached on these three passages before, I was doing a lot more leg work to even figure out where to start.

Should I preach on Jeremiah and his words about how God will provide a righteous shepherd for the sheep? Or perhaps on Psalm 23, possibly the most well-known of all the psalms. Maybe Ephesians was the way to go, with Paul’s message about unity in Christ? And, of course, there’s always the Gospel, a pieced together chunk from Mark.

I can’t say why, but I kept coming back to the Gospel. I kept being struck by what’s contained in those nine verses…and what happens in the missing nineteen verses that our lectionary designers chose to leave out. What’s missing is Mark’s telling of the feeding of the five thousand and the story of Jesus walking on the water in the midst of a storm. Instead, we hear what happens before the feeding, and what happens as soon as they safely cross the sea. It might seem strange that these stories have been cut, but next week the Gospel reading is John’s account of both these events. And, while it might not be immediately obvious, I think there’s something informative about the way these scripture segments are paired together.

This morning’s reading begins after the disciples return from their own ministry journeys. You might remember that two weeks ago Jesus sent them out in pairs to preach and teach and heal in his name. They were told not to take any provisions and to only rely on the support they got from the communities they entered. Today, they’ve come back and told Jesus everything they saw and did.

Mark doesn’t tell us a whole lot about what they reported…we don’t know if things went well or not. We don’t know if people were receptive to the disciples or if they were brushed off or treated with hostility. We don’t know if they actually cast out demons or healed people. The evangelist doesn’t tell us, and Jesus’ response doesn’t really give us any hints. He doesn’t say, “Good job!” and celebrate their success. He doesn’t say, “Well, at least you tried,” and console them. Nope, all he says is, “Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while.”

At first glance, this might sound like a pretty straightforward commentary on the need for sabbatical. We’re human beings, living organisms. We’re not robots—we’re not machines. We can’t work continuously without rest, even if the work we are doing is meaningful and important. All of us need a break from time to time, a chance to recharge and restore ourselves so that we are renewed in body and spirit and commitment.

…but I think that’s too simple. It’s not just about sleep or rest. It’s also about taking a step back to remind ourselves of what’s really important. After who knows how many days or weeks away and doing what Jesus called them to do, the disciples were probably stressed. They may have even begun to wonder what they got themselves into, or if being a disciple of Jesus was worth it after all.

So perhaps this desire to get them away to a deserted place is an attempt to help them remember what Jesus has come to do, what the reign of God is, and why it is so vital that we get to participate in that effort.

They don’t actually get that time away, though. If you were paying attention, you may have noticed that the crowd hurried on foot to get to the deserted place before them…effectively making it a not-so-deserted place.

After feeding thousands of people, after braving a storm and seeing Jesus walk across the sea, they finally get to a new place across the sea and are once again mobbed by the crowds desperate to see Jesus, desperate for healing, desperate to experience some grace.

So, the time away, the deserted place never actually happens…but maybe, in the end, it didn’t need to. If the rest was only part of the equation—if sabbath was only a piece of what Jesus had in mind—then maybe the disciples still benefited and still got what they needed after their time in the mission field.

They come back and these are the things Jesus does: feed hungry people. Comfort them when they are afraid. Love, heal, and give hope to masses who would be happy just to touch the fringe of his cloak.

Jesus selflessly gives of himself for the benefit of others out of deep and abundant love—there is no better way to describe how Jesus relates to us. This giving of God’s self is a glimpse into the reign of God, when all people will work together for the betterment of all.

The disciples needed this reminder. So do we.

There is a reason why we are called to serve others. It’s not because we have to—God’s grace is not conditional on our good works. It’s not because it makes us a better person—only God’s righteousness working in us does that. It’s not because we can only be good Christians if we martyr ourselves in service of others—God does not require that we deplete ourselves in order to give to others.

No, we are called to serve our siblings on this earth because it is what God does, what God has been shown to do, again and again in scripture.

So what are the ways in which we are reminded of this work? How does God show us what we are called to do? Where do we find rest or renewal to get back into it? What reminds you?

[Ask for responses. Prayer. Scripture. Worship. Relationships with others. Volunteering, etc.]

We do none of these things in a vacuum. We do them in community with one another. As siblings in Christ, we inspire and teach and encourage each other in God’s mission.

So yes, take rest when it is needed. Take care of yourself. But don’t linger. God is already heading to the other side of the sea to take on the needs of the world and we get to join in.

Amen.

Sabbath Keeping

Sermon preached Sunday, June 3, 2018, the Second Sunday after Pentecost, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, PA. Audio can be found here.

The first reading and the Gospel both have to do with the idea of Sabbath; what is the sabbath for? How do we keep the sabbath? Do we still even need sabbath, in the way we might once have?

In its original Hebrew, Sabbath, or Shabbat, means rest. Simply thinking about it as “rest,” though, can be a little problematic. Rest doesn’t just mean sleeping in, or binge-watching Netflix, or sitting on a porch sipping something cold. Rest can come in all kinds of forms and it really varies from person to person what it looks like. “Rest” can be anything that deviates from the things in your life that are taxing on your mind or body or spirit. For one person, cooking might be major work for them—for another, it could be the most centering thing they do all day. Rest is not defined by the action, but by the benefit received from the action. Did you come out of your nap, or massage, or gardening time, or run, feeling rejuvenated and ready for the next thing? Then feel free to consider it as “sabbath.”

I must admit that perhaps this was the best text for me to preach on this week, after returning from a week-long vacation—a week-long sabbath of my own. As many of you know, my husband and I finally went on our delayed honeymoon to Ireland and the United Kingdom. It was a week that went all too fast and was filled with a great deal of travel and walking and sight-seeing…but it was also a week of renewal and relaxation. Sure, Andrew and I tried to cross a number of things off our must-see list, but we left our evenings free and open for an extra drink or two, meeting up with friends in the area, a stroll to find dessert and, while I might still be a bit jet-lagged, I find that I am remarkably well-rested.

It also just so happens that one of our destinations this past week was Iona, a tiny island off the coast of Scotland. Iona is the home to a very old monastery, founded in the 6^th century by St. Columba. Columba was an Irish monk born into a well-connected family. He studied and became a monk and priest who was highly respected, and he founded several monasteries throughout Ireland. The facts are a little shaky, but tradition states that he got into conflicts with the King and was exiled. He left Ireland and traveled until he reached Iona, at which point he could no longer see the coast of Ireland and considered himself safe.

Once on Iona, he founded a new place he hoped to be the perfect monastery, “an image of the heavenly city of Jerusalem.” (Iona Abbey and Nunnery: Official Souvenir Guide, pg. 55). He aimed to live the life of an “ideal monk.” His biographer “writes that he occupied his time copying manuscripts, praying or meditating and leading his monks in worship and daily work.” (p.55) He died at Iona, but his monastery lived on. Monks continued to study, pray, worship, and transcribe scripture there for centuries. It was raided many times by Vikings in the 800s, leading some to flee, but four hundred years later, the Benedictines showed up and revamped the site, and established a nunnery, as well. For almost fifteen hundred years, Iona has been a place of spiritual refuge.

 

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Today, the Iona Abbey is home to the Iona Community, founded in 1938. This community, founded by a Scottish pastor, was “originally designed to prepare young ministers for the rigours of working in deprived inner-city areas.” (pg. 90) Soon, however, it developed into an ecumenical Christian community of clergy and lay people who are committed to “working for peace and social justice, rebuilding of community, and the renewal of worship.” A group of around one hundred people in the winter and up to two hundred or so in the summer lead worship, develop liturgies and music for world-wide usage in churches, and provide a place of rest for modern pilgrims seeking God.

It takes a decent amount of effort to get to Iona. We began in Oban, a coastal town near the Inner Hebrides in Scotland. From there, we took a forty-five minute ferry ride to the Isle of Mull, where we piled onto a bus. After an hour and twenty minutes or so on the bus, we arrived at another ferry station on the other side of Mull, where we rode another short ferry a few minutes to arrive on Iona. It’s rather isolated today, and that’s part of it’s appeal. From the moment we arrived, I was struck by the beauty of the place. The water was pure and blue. The grass was a deep, vibrant shade of green. The abbey, up on a slight hill overlooking the water, beckoned.

We approached and saw the path that pilgrims took for hundreds of years. We saw the grave stones and towering stone crosses. We saw a place of worship where the needs of the world are prayed for every day. At one point, I simply stood and tried to take it all in: the beauty of the sea; the history of the place; the wind whipping around me. I said a prayer. Many people told us before we arrived that Iona felt different, it felt special—they weren’t wrong.

In other words, Iona was founded as a place of Sabbath and it continues to be a place of Sabbath today.

There are two different ways of understanding the purpose of Sabbath, and I think the history of Iona and the community that currently resides there offer insight into both, in that it has been both a place of inspiration for doing God’s work in the world, and a refuge to find peace and joy.

The first way to understand Sabbath is that it provides us with the rest we need so that we can continue to do the work that God calls us to. In this model, we are working tirelessly for the Gospel, we are working hard to bring about justice and peace, to free the oppressed, to feed the hungry, to clothe the naked, to heal the sick. That work is exhausting. It can be physically demanding. It is emotionally draining. Without a chance to recharge our batteries, we’d never make it. We would burn out and leave the fight. Sabbath gives us a chance to recover.

I don’t know about you, but I need that time. I need to be able to turn off the constant stream of needs and problems and trauma so that I’m ready to participate fully, one hundred percent, when the new day begins. There are so many things that tug at my spirit, that I feel God calling the Church to respond to: the reportedly horrendous treatment of children separated from parents at the border, the fact that so many people continue to go hungry in a world that in fact produces enough food, the number of people in Puerto Rico who are still without power, the households that still have unhealthy levels of lead in their water, the crisis of opioid and other drug addiction, the discrimination of any person because of their ethnicity, skin color, orientation, socio-economic status, or gender identity. These are the cries and wails of God’s people and we are called as the church answer…but we cannot answer when our own tank is empty. The sabbath fills us back up and restores us to join in once more.

But there’s another way of looking at Sabbath, one that I think we are prone to overlook. The first way almost makes Sabbath a means to an end: we rest so that we may continue in our work. But what if Sabbath was a gift in and of itself? What if God gave us Sabbath so that we might enjoy it?

Oddly enough, this can be a tough for us to embrace. Many of us feel like we’re wasting time if we aren’t doing something considered productive. It can be hard for us to do something simple because we like doing it…but God didn’t create us just for work. God created us for joy and love and relationship! As Jesus says, the Sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath. In other words, the Sabbath was made for us to take delight in and a time to reconnect with God and with one another—we weren’t created to simply use the Sabbath as a refueling station.

What camp have you fallen into in the past? How have you practiced sabbath? Have you kept the commandment to remember the sabbath day and to keep it holy? Do you understand that this commandment means a heck of a lot more than just showing up to church on Sunday morning?

I said before that sabbath can be different for each and every person—but the importance of sabbath is the same.

It is vital. Even God, who doesn’t even actually need to rest, took sabbath.

On this Sunday, on this day traditionally referred to as the “Sabbath Day,” I encourage you to consider where you find your rest, where you find your Shabbat—this renewing and inspiring gift of God.

Amen.