WHAT
we Westerners typically call ‘wasting time’ is a novel concept for rest called
Sabbath.
How
wrong have we come to think!
I
must admit I’ve come to enjoy my infrequent Sabbath’s so much I barely wanted
them to finish, and I certainly felt the anticipation of grief that the
following day I would be compelled to re-enter the dogged fray.
Sabbath
teaches us to pray. For it’s in silence
and solitude, in the spiritual discipline of doing totally nothing, and
certainly having nothing planned so far as activity is concerned, that we
finally do recover our spiritual faculties and capacities.
Sabbath
holds us open to the Hebrew concept of day — just one day — first there is
evening and then there is morning. First
comes rest; a period of utter unproductiveness so God’s Spirit might work
productively on us, which then flows out; grace,
light from our soul. On non-Sabbath days
that’s about energy for creativity and inspiration from the free flow of
imagination as we invest in the life of the day.
But
Sabbath is special.
In
itself, Sabbath is prayer. The whole
idea of the Hebrew Sabbath is prayer.
God gets us all to himself, and none of our works’ righteousness is of
any credit to us; indeed, the credit that goes to us is to be lost to the world
for a whole day; or, for some, it may be more realistic to say a portion of a day (a few hours).
***
The Hebrew
Sabbath, commencing at evening, through the rest of night, is permission to
sleep well. It’s permission to die to
one’s self and every ‘important’ thing, as if nothing in the whole of life was
important; actually, as if we were already dead.
What is
embellished in Sabbath, in and through us, is the fluidity of grace as it works
into the nodules of our visceral soul.
Rather than working into an ether of burnout, constantly demanding more
and more of ourselves, running on fumes, we’re given scope for course correction.
And that course
correction is a form of prayer called Sabbath.
***
The unforced rhythms
of grace, as Eugene Peterson would call them, are essential fodder for the Christian
endeavour. If we have no grace we have
no connection with the Spirit, and everything we do for God is done in our own
strength.
Grace is an
inflow from a thriving prayer life. The
more we give ourselves to God, the better our prayer life.
The silence and
solitude of Sabbath with God is its own prayer endeavour. When we entrust ourselves into God’s comforting
hands, he abounds to us his copious magnanimous grace.
© 2016 Steve Wickham.
Acknowledgement: to Eugene Peterson’s Working the Angles: The Shape of Pastoral
Integrity. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1987. pp. 67-70.
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