Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath of the Lord your God; in it you shall not do any work... (Exodus 20:9-10a)
Period.
On Saturday, my eleven-year old son and I were covering the flower beds with mulch. It was a surprise to my wife who was out of town for the weekend. I was feeling very magnanimous when he asked, "Dad, is this acceptable Sabbath work?"
My gut response was, "Of course it is! Just imagine your mother's ebullient elation when she arrives at home tomorrow and beholds the work of our hands! Oh! the work of our hands." However, before I could say anything at all I was acutely convicted by the commandment, "Six days you shall labor and do all your work..." Period. No, "ifs", "ands", or "buts". You shall do no work. None at all, and it wasn't just the daffodil beds. Earlier in the day I had fed the chickens, fixed breakfast for our three boys, and helped this self-same son build a field goal from PVC pipe. My life suddenly seemed very utilitarian. Especially for a Sabbath day.
So, I answered my inquisitor, "Of course it is! We aren't doing this for us. We are doing this for your mom." This axiom aphoristically assuaged my sore-afflicted soul.
So, I answered my inquisitor, "Of course it is! We aren't doing this for us. We are doing this for your mom." This axiom aphoristically assuaged my sore-afflicted soul.
So, yes, son. There is an exertion clause. It is inserted into, and surrounds, the Sabbath. We can labor on the day of rest, but not for the love of the work. Furthermore, we can work, but not to be more productive. Our only valid Sabbath work is love; love for the Lord and love for one another. Period.
For in six days the Lord made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them, and rested on the seventh day...(Exodus 20:11a)
Exclamation point.
After the morning labors, the boys and I took advantage of a beautiful fall afternoon to go on an autumnal walk. The leaves were turning. Some were falling. A cache of fallen acorns became a priceless treasure. (Many acorns and their "hairy nests" found their way to the kitchen table.) The two little boys played guns and swords in their castle (aka, tree house) while I shot hoops with the oldest.
For several hours on Saturday we were all outside. The sun was warm and the air was cool. We were in the same yard and we walked the same neighborhood that has been our home for five years. We were in the same yard we work in and the same neighborhood that we rocket by every day of the week but don't see. Not really. Not close up. Not in a way that reminds us that God's world is big enough to make us lost and small enough to make us kings.
This transformation can only happen if there is a period at the end of our week. The Lord made the heavens and the earth and the sea and in that period that is Sabbath, we can see just how big God is and we see that it was God that made every leaf and every acorn and every ray of light and breath of wind. Everything becomes magic and the very period that we found so hard to write becomes an exclamation point we don't want to end.
For several hours on Saturday we were all outside. The sun was warm and the air was cool. We were in the same yard and we walked the same neighborhood that has been our home for five years. We were in the same yard we work in and the same neighborhood that we rocket by every day of the week but don't see. Not really. Not close up. Not in a way that reminds us that God's world is big enough to make us lost and small enough to make us kings.
This transformation can only happen if there is a period at the end of our week. The Lord made the heavens and the earth and the sea and in that period that is Sabbath, we can see just how big God is and we see that it was God that made every leaf and every acorn and every ray of light and breath of wind. Everything becomes magic and the very period that we found so hard to write becomes an exclamation point we don't want to end.
Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy. (Exodus 20:11b)
A question.
After an ill-conceived and poorly-executed meal of pasta, bacon, toast, and ice cream, the boys and I set out on a night walk. We were sleepy and tired and dirty and hypoglycemic, but this too was Sabbath work.
There's a pond not too far from our home. You have to walk around the block and up the street, past an overgrown slough full of the usual urban debris...but if you look up on a clear autumn night, you see the vast unspoiled reaches of space, and if you go just a little further, you find a pond as far as a little boy's eye can see - full of ducks and geese and pirates and sea monsters.
It had been a long way to the end of a good day and the boys were tired by the time we reached the pond. However, I had been on several night-walks gone bad and on this night I was prepared. I brought granola bars. We ate in silence and gazed up and out at this world that God had created and we realized, I think, that we belonged in it. Somehow, God had made it all for us at that moment and in that moment we were made for Him. It was a mystery, and in a world that somehow has convinced us that knowing is the reason for the journey, it was a miracle.
In Sabbath, God encourages us to write a period at the end of our week. If we do, God promises us an exclamation point to elevate our pedestrian path. And then, in Sabbath's closing coda, God reminds us that it is to the question mark where our true life leads. That question mark is holiness. It is the recognition that God is more and God is other. We can't know...not completely...but it is in this unknowing that we can finally be known completely and be completely at rest.
There's a pond not too far from our home. You have to walk around the block and up the street, past an overgrown slough full of the usual urban debris...but if you look up on a clear autumn night, you see the vast unspoiled reaches of space, and if you go just a little further, you find a pond as far as a little boy's eye can see - full of ducks and geese and pirates and sea monsters.
It had been a long way to the end of a good day and the boys were tired by the time we reached the pond. However, I had been on several night-walks gone bad and on this night I was prepared. I brought granola bars. We ate in silence and gazed up and out at this world that God had created and we realized, I think, that we belonged in it. Somehow, God had made it all for us at that moment and in that moment we were made for Him. It was a mystery, and in a world that somehow has convinced us that knowing is the reason for the journey, it was a miracle.
In Sabbath, God encourages us to write a period at the end of our week. If we do, God promises us an exclamation point to elevate our pedestrian path. And then, in Sabbath's closing coda, God reminds us that it is to the question mark where our true life leads. That question mark is holiness. It is the recognition that God is more and God is other. We can't know...not completely...but it is in this unknowing that we can finally be known completely and be completely at rest.
Church Stopping. Less doing. More being.
Photos from www.freeimages.com (in order) #102275, 115389, 72921
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