Sabbath is hard. Life demands so much: deadlines loom, new work assignments threaten to create chaos, crisis must be managed, and relationships take time. To stop, to cease, to come to a sudden halt, opening the hands to God in trust that “all will be well” is a surprisingly daunting task.
Yesterday, I read, I walked the neighborhood with my camera, and I watched a movie (interesting little movie with Adam Sandler and Don Cheadle called Reign Over Me–that’s another blog). I probably should have napped, but didn’t. Nothing constructive really happened, so I guess from that point of view, maybe it was good.
But the larger issue is the churning. By churning, I don’t mean emotionally upset churning, I mean brooding with an uptick in energy. Thinking hard. Wracking my brain about things, about the upcoming demands of what God is dropping into my lap, my mind in overdrive, searching the nooks and crannies of past experience in a sort of low-level panic, thinking I am not nearly ready for what’s coming. I know all that sounds a bit dramatic–but it’s what my inner life was like as I “rested.” About halfway through the day, I realized this is not what Sabbath means. If the core of Sabbath is trust, I was working as hard as ever at contingency plans.
I finally settled in and let things go. This morning I’m reading in Dan Allender’s book Leading with a Limp how the holy fools God often uses to lead are those who understand how “not in control” we are. Given that, I figure God doesn’t need me to fret an extra hour so things will come out just right. In fact, He’s the only one who knows what “coming out right” looks like.
Next week, I stop, inside and out…