Have you ever experienced true Sabbath rest? That’s the question posed to readers by the folks over at Red Letter Believers.
As I sit here — with a four-inch stack of papers begging to be sorted, dishes needing cleaned, clothes strewn on the floor — I feel the guilt creeping in. Rest seems far away, a destination that perhaps won’t be reached until my head drops on the pillow late tonight.
Lord, do I ever truly rest? What does that mean to you, Lord, to observe the Sabbath? As I began to write today, I almost feared His answer. I was afraid of the self-condemnation. And then in a moment of pure grace, it occurred to me: If rest is entering the presence of God, if it is leaning back into His arms, if it is experiencing His grace, then I am drowning in rest.
Rest came today when I woke up to the sound of “Blessed Be The Name.” It came with the reminder from a small, still voice in my inner being that God would be my constant companion today. Rest.
Rest came at noon, when I walked into the school to run an errand. A pink-bundled girl, arms stretched out, shouted my name from the playground: “Mommy!” Lydia planted a kiss on my cheek, then ran back to play with her friends. Rest.
Rest came today when I read my morning devotions, reminding me that I am one of God’s masterpieces, even when I don’t feel like it. Rest.
Rest came when I heard the familiar rumble of the combine outside and closed my eyes in praise — as father and son work side-by-side to harvest the corn. Rest.
I found Sabbath rest in a perfect song, a word from God, a stolen hug, a Bible verse and the sound of a lumbering combine.
And now, I shall leave the bills lay, the dishes piled, the clothes strewn. For I am headed to the living room, to put up my feet, and have a Sabbath moment while resting in the presence of God.
“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” Psalm 91:1