We were sitting in a room of ministry leaders. Some were vocational pastors, some lay-leaders. All of us were there for different reasons. My husband and I were shifting roles and felt God calling us to step out and away from all things familiar, so our church had sent us on a week-long retreat in the mountains for intensive prayer, counsel, and rest. The couple to my left were recovering from a freshly confessed affair. The ones next to them knew they were returning home to a board ready to fire them. The ones across the room, sitting on the ledge of a grand, circular fireplace, had run the gamut after 40 years in vocational ministry and were there to offer those of us on the oversized couches wisdom from their years of experience. Wisdom and advice and words of healing encouragement for our various seasons.
“Be creative, remind yourself of what your hobbies once were.
Date your spouse. Non-negotiable two date nights per month.
Don’t sacrifice your family on the altar of ministry. Your family is your first ministry.
(And finally…)
Sabbath. You must rest. This is not optional, this is pivotal. Prioritize it. Do whatever it takes to make it happen. Unrested pastors cannot shepherd a flock. Unrested pastors slide into sin. Unrested pastors are not being obedient to God. You must choose Sabbath rest.”
These words were life-changing for us. You see, the very first church we had served at together had developed unhealthy dynamics in response to explosive growth after a new building project. My husband was repeatedly told he was “underworked and overpaid.” At 60-70 hours a week minimum and a salary that was barely making ends meet, this was a conflicting message to hear. We were told that a day off was selfish, that if we were truly sold out for this calling we wouldn’t need a day off. There was just so much work to be done, and besides, as a newlywed couple with no children, what exactly did we need to rest from?
At 21 years old, I didn’t have a great answer to that question. But I did know I was beginning to feel burned out. I was beginning to feel bitter towards the church, towards the pastor, and honestly, towards God.
What I know now, and wish I could have told my young, confused, tired self is, God commands us to rest. And obedience to God doesn’t need justification or a long list of reasons why it’s the right thing to do. We obey God because we know His commands are for our good and His glory. God modeled rest for us at the beginning of Creation, and His call to us for rest has remained throughout all of history. It isn’t optional.
My husband and I have seen so much fruit from following the advice given to us in that mountain cabin all those years ago. We had to unlearn some bad habits and disordered thinking about rest. We had to train ourselves into believing that rest is not being lazy or selfish. And we had to figure out what was restful to us.
Having four young children means we do not get to Sabbath by sleeping in, getting a nice long massage, reading on the couch while sipping coffee and ordering takeout for all three meals (my ideal day in a nutshell), but it doesn’t mean we’re excused or excluded from Sabbath until we’re empty nesters.
In this season of life we Sabbath on Fridays. Our entire church knows this. We do not schedule meetings, answer emails or texts or phone calls, or do anything “church work” related on Fridays. We do not pick up printer paper. We do not stop by the church and let the maintenance guy in. We do not proofread the bulletin. All these things can and should be handled another day or by another person for just that one day. It’s true and it’s possible!
We do what we love on Sabbath. We do what brings us joy and energy and life. And that actually sometimes looks like “work” to the outsider. One of our favorite things to do on Fridays is go up to the mountains to cut wood. We live in northern Arizona in the largest Ponderosa Pine forest in the world, and our home is heated solely by burning wood. That means throughout the summer and fall, we have to go out to collect wood to chop, stack, and eventually burn all winter.
What might sound like a chore is actually one of our deepest delights. We pack the kids in the truck and drive up, up, up until the air is cool and thin. We find a spot with tall aspens, their leaves clapping in the breeze. We set up hammocks and snacks and then start downing dead trees, cutting rounds, and running the wheelbarrow back and forth from the woods to the pickup, stacking the freshly cut wood Tetris-like into the long trailer.
(My daughter, Harper, riding in the wheel barrow as we gather wood)
On our drive down from the mountain, we stop at our favorite local pizza place (Fratelli’s, the best pizza in Flagstaff, don’t let anyone tell you differently) and head home to watch a movie while we snuggle up on the couch.
This is rest. This is life-giving. This is how we prepare our hearts, minds, and bodies to continue to live out the call God has given us. This is how we remember our dependence on Him to equip us to do the work.
Rest is a command. And it is such a sweet one to obey.
Taking it further:
Do you have views of rest that may be giving you an unhealthy lens through which to Sabbath?
Where did you learn to rest?
Journal about an ideal rest day, and then a practical rest day for your current season (if it’s different). How can you make that a reality?
Thanks so much for this article! It is well timed at this season in my life.
I’m glad you were encouraged!