The screen blurs in front of me. I massage my eyes, again. I wish I could massage my brain.
It’s been a long week. A long month. The demands of my employment seem to weigh so heavy these days. I feel driven down, tired, frustrated even. Normally, I enjoy my work but the relentless nature of it is wearing me down.
Tomorrow is Sabbath. Right now, late on a Friday afternoon, I should be looking forward to it. Welcoming its presence like a long-awaited friend. Beckoning it closer. But I’m not.
The truth is, I’m not ready for Sabbath. Going home tonight I know that I will struggle to relax. The events of the week will still be churning through my brain. I won’t be able to focus and will again be looking for some amusement to numb my mind from the churn. I will feel too distracted to pray.
Tomorrow won’t be much different. I’ll rise in the morning still agitated, glad that I can leave my job behind for the day, but troubled about the prospect of facing my church family. I know I can’t meet the unwritten expectations that, admittedly, I’ve placed on myself to belong here. I’m not fit to be a part of this family. I do a miserable job of “keeping“ the Sabbath.
But I grimace behind my smile and face the day anyway.
Along the way, some things happen . . .
—My daughter rushes about, keen to get ready. I watch her jump out of the car to meet her friends. I see her in a hurry to get to Sabbath school, lest she be late and miss something. My heart skips a beat and a silent prayer of gratitude escapes.
—A friend greets me warmly and asks me how my running is going and when my next event is. Small talk. I can handle this. His interest in me rekindles a small spark inside.
—I have a Sabbath school class to lead. I’ve prepared for it, but I’m not prepared. I’m just an imposter. But I see the interest in people’s eyes, the desire after God and I rediscover the presence of that same desire in my own heart. The insights I share seem to strike a chord with the group present. The spark splutters and smokes.
—I sit down for our main service and there isn’t a computer screen in front of me. No agenda or daily tasks, no appointments, no emails. The lighting is soft. I’m drawn in by a new song I hadn’t heard before. I laugh at the comments of children during their time at the front. The preacher turns to a passage and expresses a new perspective that takes my mind away.
—I talk with friends over an afternoon walk. We share stories, discuss the challenges of workplaces and raising children. We ponder the ever-present challenge of maintaining faith in the real world.
And so, not always in the same way or the same order, I come out of Sabbath different to how I go in.
One day it finally clicked. I don’t keep the Sabbath. I’ve spent 40 years doing a poor job of that.
It is the Sabbath that keeps me!
In this season of life with its unique set of challenges I need the Sabbath to keep me on the path heavenward. Jesus’ words in Mark suddenly make sense; the Sabbath was made for man, not the other way around.
I’m no theologian but I wonder if we have misinterpreted the words of Exodus 20:8. Is the emphasis intended to be on ”keep” or on ”remember”? There is a new beauty in these words when they are rendered “Remember the Sabbath day, for it keeps you holy . . .”
I’m finding this stage of my life particularly hard. I can honestly say I’ve thoroughly resolved in my heart the question of God’s existence. But it is altogether a different matter to live a life that demonstrates this to the world. It’s tough going. I struggle. I keep struggling. I haven’t given up yet. What keeps me going? No doubt there are many things, but Sabbath is front and centre.
My childhood was governed by the regularity of a weekly Sabbath. My mother was the one doing the remembering to begin with. Church is a great place for kids. Sabbath school, shared lunches, Adventurers, Pathfinders. The blessing of community, doing life together to the metronome of a weekly Sabbath.
My high school years were influenced by the Sabbath. It was such a relief to be able to drop the burden of study for a day. I wasn’t very good at studying at the best of times, but on Sabbath I was free. No guilt! I pitied my public school classmates who had to worry about their grades seven days a week. Six was plenty for me.
As humans, we need regularity. Life is a merciless sea to those without the anchoring effect of a consistent cycle and an attachment to something bigger than ourselves. God has made provision for us by giving us the Sabbath and invites us into the blessing it brings.
I know I’m not alone in the challenges I’ve described. Quite likely you are facing them as well. Let go of the expectations you had of yourself. Come as you are. Show up. Remember the Sabbath.
And let it keep you on the path heavenward as well.
Derek O’Hare writes from Perth, WA.
