Keeping the Sabbath as Christians

Ask almost anyone how they are doing and you will usually get one or two answers.

The first is "fine," or something to that effect. It does not mean they are fine. It just means they don't want to tell you if they aren't. It's more dismissive an answer than anything. It's like saying, "thanks for asking, but I'm not going to talk to you about it."

Honestly, most of the time, when we ask someone how they're going that's what we expect. If someone starts unloading about all their stressors, everything that has gone wrong, it can actually make us a little uncomfortable. Like, "well, I wasn't expecting that!"

But the other answer to that question, while probably more honest, is the one I want to talk about today.

How are you doing?

Answer: “Busy.” 

That answer is usually accompanied by a deep exhale, maybe a sigh, a shiftiness in the eyes. But there's something else there, too. It's almost a kind of pride.

Busy means we're useful; we're needed. Busy, we think, means I matter.

And because we are desperate to matter, we fill our calendars. We keep ourselves as busy as possible. The one afternoon we might have set aside to relax becomes, quietly, the time we use to "catch up."

We are tired, yes. It seems like everyone is tired. But somewhere along the line we've accepted being "tired" as just a part of being useful, of living. That's because, ultimately, many of us would rather be tired than unproductive.

This is why the biblical teaching on sabbath matters.

It's one of the Ten Commandments, but the vast majority of Christian communities out there don't give it much thought at all. We chalk it up to one of those "old testament" things... but the Ten Commandments are still in force. They aren't like the ceremonial or legal codes that were meant for Israel alone. The Sabbath is not null and void.

But that doesn't mean it's some kind of legalistic item to "check off" on our list. It's funny, isn't it, how we can treat the very idea of "rest" as another thing to do, another productive activity?

In fact, that's sometimes to only reason some people rest at all. So they can re-charge and be productive tomorrow. They "use" rest as a means toward serving more activity, not as a good in itself.

Except in the Bible, rest is not given just so we can recharge our batteries. We don't "rest" on Sunday just so we can hit the ground running come Monday.

Rest is so much more than that.

It is a confession of faith. It is a weekly, bodily act of protest against a lie most of us have, conscious or subconsciously bought into: the lie that who we are depends on what we produce.

 

God Rested, too.

Notice where "rest" first appears in the Bible. It's not at the Ten Commandments. Long before that, it's there in the second chapter of Genesis, it's a kind of "crown" on all that God had made: "And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and hallowed it, because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation." (Genesis 2:2-3).

The Hebrew verb here, shabat, does not mean to tuck yourself into bed. It does not mean to collapse because you're exhausted after a long day.

It means to cease, or to stop.

God was not tired. God doesn't get tired.

He stopped because the work was complete, and because stopping was itself part of the goodness of creation itself.

Rest is a part of the blueprint. It's written into the very fabric of creation itself.

The seventh day is the only thing in the creation account that God explicitly makes holy. Yes, he calls a lot of things "good," but when he rests we're told He blessed the seventh day and "hallowed it," maket is holy.

He didn't call the sea or the dry land holy. He didn't call a mountain holy, or even one of his magnificent creatures.

He defines a single day as holy, as set-apart, as blessed. And on that day, nothing so visibly remarkable happened. There's no speaking something out of nothing. But there is a speaking of sanctity into everything.

Think about how our weeks measure up. How does our Sunday through Saturday align with creation (the most productive work week in history, really!)

If the Creator of the universe made rest a part of the design, a part of the rhythm of reality, then our refusal to stop is not a virtue. It's not a "mark" of our usefulness or dedication. It is rebellion. It is our refusal to live in the world as God made it.

 

In the Ten Commandments

The Ten Commandments are given twice in the Old Testament, but each account gives us something a little different, particularly regarding the sabbath; that is the basis or grounds for the sabbath.

In Exodus, sabbath is rooted in creation: "For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it" (Exodus 20:11).

In Deuteronomy, the reason is liberation: "Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the sabbath day" (Deuteronomy 5:15).

Put those two together and the theology of the sabbath starts to come into focus.

In Egypt there was no sabbath practiced, so far as we are aware. Pharaoh’s economy ran on the principle that a human being is worth exactly what he can produce—and he never had enough bricks. When Moses first approached Pharoah, he did not immediately ask for his people to be freed from their tasks; he asked for time to worship.

Pharaoh’s response? He increased the quota; said the people were lazy.

Do you have a Pharoah telling you that? It might be a boss—it's probably a Pharoah living in your own mind.

This isn't a problem unique to our commercial, industrialized, technological age. It's a problem that goes back to the beginning, that's right there in Exodus. It's the voice that almost every human economy in history has embraced that measures the value of a person by their output.

The sabbath is God’s answer to the entire idea that Pharoah's oppression had trained the hebrew mind to accept: that we must work, work, work... no matter what, what what...

So, once a week, God commands the people to do the one thing Pharoah never allowed: stop.

And this doesn't just apply to the father, or the "breadwinner." It applies to everyone. The command extends to "you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the alien resident in your towns" (Exodus 20:10).

Everyone rests, because everyone is a creature. No one is a machine.

To keep sabbath, then, is to declare with your whole body that you have left Egypt. It is to say to the taskmaster inside your own head: you do not own me. My worth was settled before I accomplished anything, and it will remain when I can accomplish nothing at all.

 

The anxiety behind it

Why is this so hard? Because beneath our busyness is usually fear. If I stop, something won't get done. And if something doesn't get done, everything will fall apart.

If I stop, someone will pass me up.

And maybe more deeply: if I stop, I will have to face the question of whether I am loved apart from my usefulness.

The psalmist names this directly: "It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives sleep to his beloved" (Psalm 127:2).

The bread of anxious toil.

That's not whole grain bread. That's empty-calorie "wonder" bread that never really nourishes or satisfies.

And many of us eat a steady diet of it.

Notice, in that psalm, work itself is not condemned. Work is good, man and woman were created and tasked to work the garden. Work is necessary, and it's a blessed part of life. But the psalm does condemn the anxiety that drives our work beyond its proper limits. It condemns the idolatry of work, the idea that our security and identity depend on what we do, how busy we are, how productive we can be.

True security, though, isn't something we can manufacture. It's something we receive.

Sleep, in this verse, is a gift that's given to the beloved. The one who rests exercises ultimate faith—it says, I'm secure even when my eyes are shut, when my body is still.

Saint Augustine understood that this restlessness has made its place deep in the heart of most souls. “You have made us for yourself,” he prayed, “and our heart is restless until it rests in you” (Confessions I.1).

The sabbath, in the end, is not about a day. It's not another "item" to check off on your holiness list. That misses the point (which Jesus addressed, too, and we'll look at below). Rest is about an orientation of the heart, of the soul. To a place where striving finally stops, and it learns to receive.

 

Jesus and the deeper rest

For the Pharisees, the religious authorities in Jesus' day, sabbath had become something of a burden. Another thing to "do," or else.

Jesus does not "break" the sabbath in protest. Just the opposite. He reclaims it. "The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath" (Mark 2:27).

He healed on the sabbath. He allowed the disciples to pick grain and eat on the sabbath. He set people free from diabolical oppression on the sabbath.

Because that is what the day was always for.

And then he reissued the sabbath command in the form of an invitation: "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28).

The Letter to the Hebrews draws out the implications of this teaching. "So then, a sabbath rest still remains for the people of God; for those who enter God’s rest also cease from their labors as God did from his" (Hebrews 4:9-10).

The weekly day of rest is a rehearsal for heaven; it's a practice of the gospel itself! We are not saved by our labor. The decisive work has been finished by Another, and that our part is to rest in Him.

 

Practicing the protest

How does this become more than an idea? How do we actually honor the sabbath? God declared it holy in the beginning, then he exhorts us to keep it holy.

For centuries, God's people observed the Sabbath on Saturday, the seventh day, echoing God's rest at the end of the original creation. But with the resurrection of Jesus on the first day of the week, the early church experienced a profound shift. They began to gather, break bread, and rest on Sunday—the Lord’s Day. Sunday became a celebration of the new creation. By setting Sunday apart, we aren't just looking back to the finished work of Genesis; we are celebrating the finished, redemptive work of the empty tomb.

This is why we should fight to set Sunday apart. It is a day meant for gathered worship, for shared meals. It is the day we enter into life itself, in more ways than one. The life that's ours in Christ, who makes all things new, but also when we actually enjoy the fruit of our labors throughout the week, we prepare for the day, we do not stress over meals, or shopping lists. We just enjoy what's been provided, and we give thanks.

It roots us in the reality of the resurrection.

But what if you are a nurse, a first responder, a shift worker, or a pastor? Jesus taught that the Sabbath was made for humankind, not humankind for the Sabbath. The exact day on the calendar is secondary to the life-saving rhythm of the commandment itself. If you truly cannot set aside Sunday, that doesn't mean you missed out on sabbath. Strive to keep Sunday as a day of rest if possible, but if your situation demands otherwise, set aside and fiercely guard another day. Try to make it consistent from week-to-week, until you can finally reclaim Sunday as your day of rest. Claim it, protect it, and treat it as holy.

Decide in advance what you will not do: no email, no errands, no catching up. If you enjoy something, enjoy it. The point is not to keep your heartrate down at a certain level. For some people, playing soccer with their kids is a kind of rest because you're doing something that's good-in-itself, enjoying your family, not trying to produce.

Don't just leave it up in the air. Our flesh is too stubborn, our addiction to productivity will take the inch you give it and claim a mile. Rest that is left to chance probably won't happen.

Here's a thought. Put the phone away. Not silenced in your pocket, but in another room. Avoid the temptation to fill your rest with distraction. Distraction is not a cousin of rest, it is in many ways its opposite. It's a kind of work.

Do something that produces nothing. Walk without tracking your steps. Share a meal without rushing through it. Sit before the Lord without an agenda, meditate with your family over the Gospel reading from church that morning. If no one has anything to say, let the silence linger, even if its awkward. You might find, when you make enough room in the quiet, that that awkwardness is gradually transformed into prayer.

”Be still, and know that I am God!” (Psalm 46:10). In the grammar, that's a command. Kind of crazy that we have to be commanded to be still, isn't it? Well, such is our condition. But it's not an option.

Notice the anxiety when it rises. If you haven't ever even thought about keeping a Sabbath before, it will come. When it does, recognize it and name it. When the voice in your head tells you you're falling behind, give it a firm answer: I am not a slave. I have been brought out of Egypt.

And finally, let the day change how you work the other six. The person who truly rests on the seventh day tends to work on the other days with less desperation, because he knows his worth is not on the line. That's a big part of the gift of this practice. It doesn't just sanctify one day; by sanctifying one day, interestingly enough, our entire lives are blessed and drawn into holiness.

The measure of you is not in what you can get done. That's never been who you were created to be. So, once a week, stop, and turn all your attention to Him, who is our rest.

 

God Bless,

Judah