Sabbath. I waited too long. Why? I saw the familiar signs: The worry about things that don’t usually cause me angst. A virus that wouldn’t turn loose. The weariness that a good night’s sleep couldn’t cure. The irritability that ensued when I opened Facebook. An anxiety attack that convinced me I was in heart failure. And the grieving with the bereaved that wouldn’t let me sleep for more than a consecutive hour and a half.
I burned out. Big. Time.
My thoughtful husband, the King of 5-Minute Vacations, warned me about it happening and suggested I scale back. I nodded in agreement but didn’t heed his instruction to balance the scales of work and rest. Instead, I rose early every morning before daybreak, grabbed my glasses and computer, and dove into grief mode. I couldn’t learn enough about grief and blogging. My laptop and I were often still curled up in the high back chair in my family room until well after midnight. Good, but unbalanced intentions.
And so, I took the time to pull back the words and focus on the message. I sat with God. I contemplated. I unplugged. I rested. I refueled.
I practiced Sabbath.
Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. –Matthew 11: 28-30
Not just rest in the form of sleep. Not rest in the way of an exotic beach. I ceased striving and achieving. It’s the kind of rest that required a typical Type A firstborn like me to tuck my drive into bed, take my laptop out of commission, and lay all things grief-related on the back burner.
Sabbath allows us in Christ Jesus to enter searing, holy spaces. Spaces where we hear God speak our worth. Spaces that enable us to encounter grief and unspeakable joy in unison.
I was growing familiar with those holy spaces. I slipped away. I caved to culture’s (and the blogging world’s) demands. I burned out.
Thus, I took a respite from vocational learning, social media, and grief. I barely watched TV, especially the news. Instead, I used that time to soak in the sunshine, listen to beautiful music, and binge on good books. I plan to use every Sunday and at least one hour a day to practice Sabbath – not in a legalistic, wooden way, but because I know that my mind, body, and soul shut down when I’m not resting in Christ.
How about you? Do you regularly practice Sabbath? Are you able to experience grief and unspeakable joy in unison? Do you understand who you are in Christ? If not, why not? And what are you willing to do about it?