Simplify - Sabbath
I hope this series is an encouragement for you, and some tips rekindle your motivation. While they may not be entirely new or groundbreaking, if you're anything like me, reminders can be quite helpful.
Read the others if you haven’t yet:
Simplify - Weekly Meal Planning
Simplify - Structured Play Time
This entry ties in with the last ones.
Here's a suggestion: Choose one day of the week as a day of rest.
We've all heard the verse: "And on the seventh day, God rested!" What's good for Him is vital for us, I'm convinced. The problem is that this simple, weighty principle challenges us immensely. We're already exhausted just thinking about WHEN we can integrate this, right?
In a society that is fast-paced and driven, the desire for instant gratification is ever-present. We belong to a generation that thrives on immediacy. Our home library and the internet serve as powerful tools in fulfilling this need. The ability to order what we want, when we want it, access information at any time, and stay updated on our friends' activities has become an integral part of our daily lives. We find ourselves able to shop almost around the clock, be in contact with half the world, and respond to messages while simultaneously handling household chores such as vacuuming and washing whenever it suits us.
All these freedoms make us believe that they simplify our lives. But do they?
In a world where stores are always open and online shopping is at our fingertips, forgetting to buy something rarely leaves us in front of closed store doors. While the convenience of being able to purchase anything again is there, it doesn't necessarily save us time – in fact, it often costs us more time. The abundance of choices and constant availability can sometimes lead to decision fatigue and a sense of time slipping away in the pursuit of convenience.
I often reflect on times when electricity was not a given, and oil lamps and candles were the sources of light. The absence of modern devices and their limitations, especially on the eyes, meant that people didn't stay up all night. Early bedtimes were the norm.
In an era without washing machines, my family and I experienced a year of life on a remote Caribbean island. Handwashing was not just a chore; it was a way of life, and surprisingly, many preferred it, claiming clothes came out cleaner. However, this also meant early morning walks to fetch water and dedicating the entire day to the washing process.
While we may feel like we spend our days washing too, the experience is markedly different. The contrast between then and now serves as a reminder of the pace of life and the impact of modern conveniences on our daily routines.
I love the quote from Jen Wilkin from her book.
“Our patterns of work and rest reveal what we believe to be true about God and ourselves. God alone requires no limits on his activity. To rest is to acknowledge that we humans are limited by design. We are created for rest just as surely as we are created for labor. An inability or unwillingness to cease from our labors is a confession of unbelief, an admission that we view ourselves as creator and sustainer of our universes.”
Let’s look at it in more detail.
Our Patterns of work and rest reveal what we believe to be true about God.
When considering this, a verse that immediately comes to mind is that He is our provider, with one of the more famous ones being in Philippians 4:19:
"I am convinced that my God will fully satisfy every need you have, for I have seen the abundant riches of glory revealed to me through the Anointed One, Jesus Christ!”
Do we truly believe that even if we rest, or while we rest, He provides?
The question arises: do we genuinely believe that God provides for us even when we rest? It's often more straightforward to believe that He provides while we are busy. But what about during our moments of rest, in taking that day off—will He still provide EVERY need?
Isn’t it easier to believe that He provides while we are busy?
There's a common inclination to find it easier to believe that God provides for us when we are actively engaged in our tasks and responsibilities.
But how about resting, in taking that day off, will he still provide EVERY need?
The challenge lies in extending this belief to our moments of rest, trusting that even when we step away, God continues to fulfill every need.
I feel the inability to step into rest is the revelation of our heart, that our needs truly depend on us.
The difficulty in embracing rest may be a revelation about our hearts, indicating a belief that our needs ultimately depend on our efforts. It prompts us to question whether we truly rely on God's provision, irrespective of our activity or inactivity.
What I've observed in Church and Missionary settings is a common pitfall: the tendency to fall into the trap of continually meeting the needs around us, often neglecting the crucial practice of prioritizing rest. In doing so, there's a risk of assuming the role of the Savior for those we serve, perhaps unintentionally mirroring a perception of who we think God is. This puts us on delicate ground because, in truth, there is only one true Savior, and His return is anticipated.
When we closely examine Jesus' life, we find a different model—one that prioritizes retreating from the crowds, spending time in prayer, and even resting amid a storm. Shouldn't this be our example? Not the version of Jesus we might perceive, but the one who truly walked the earth.
His father has clearly instructed us to take a day of rest.
What are your reflections on the concept of rest? Is it perceived as a sign of weakness, or do you approach it with a spirit of gratitude?
Take a moment to pause and engage in reflection, inviting Holy Spirit into this contemplative space. Allow your life to unfold before Him, exposing any aspects you may not be consciously aware of. This intentional reflection can uncover insights, nurture personal growth, and foster a deeper connection with the true essence of rest.
I used to thrive on being busy—it made me feel in control, on top of things, and visible. Growing up as the eldest, I shouldered responsibilities that didn't necessarily belong to me, but I took them on for the sake of peace in the household. This pattern persisted into adulthood, where I continued to exhibit the same signs of stepping up and getting things done—traits that are often appreciated when you're on a team.
It took years for me to uncover the unhealthy root of this practice. Taking on responsibilities became a burden driven by a deep-seated fear of not belonging. I believed that I only belonged when I contributed, a belief that, was damaging for me. The journey of healing began when we entered a year of forced sabbatical, not due to a physical collapse, but because the mission we embarked on was far from what we expected on many levels. The shatteredness of those moments led us to: not hurry through this season but to lean into Him.
Little did we know that this period of healing and leaning would last a year. During this time, I experienced a profound shift. What initially seemed like a challenging season turned into a revelation of resting in Him, finding my dependency on Him, and witnessing a complete turnaround in my perspective. It surprised and excited me.
Experiencing firsthand that all I needed was Him became a treasure. Walking through that journey was an honor, and I hold this newfound understanding dear, never taking it for granted.
This journey had so many more nuances, but I’ll leave you with this.
What can you do in your season?
Jesus said, in Mark 2:27 The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.
Keeping us mindful not to do it as a religious activity.
I've intentionally set aside one day a week dedicated to rest, and for us, it's the classic choice of Sunday. On this day, I deliberately avoid tasks like laundry or vacuuming. While there are still responsibilities that require attention, I'm fortunate that my children cook on the weekends providing wonderful support. The highlight of our Sundays is the evening, reserved for a special date night.
Recognizing the importance of having a designated day of rest has been transformative. Admittedly, the most challenging aspect has been resisting the urge to vacuum. However, I've refrained from turning this practice into a rigid rule; there are exceptions, but they are rarely needed.
Visitors who happen to drop by on Sundays must content themselves with a few more crumbs, yet surprisingly, it doesn't seem to matter much — and the impact on my well-being is remarkable. I find myself more relaxed and refreshed.
A day of rest, whenever feasible, is genuinely enriching. It brings a sense of relaxation and provides the body with the serenity it so desperately needs. Creatively shaping how this day looks for you allows for a unique and enjoyable experience. It's a deliberate choice to prioritize self-care and embrace the rejuvenating power of rest.
What will this look like for you?