Pondering: Unexpected Benefits of Sabbath Rest #1

This is the first in an occasional series on the unexpected benefits of a life that includes regular, intentional, contemplative, Christ-centered rest.

When do we ponder? Maybe a better question is, do we ponder at all?

Scripture couldn’t be clearer about the value of pondering. In Luke 2, Mary reacted to the events surrounding the birth of Jesus by “pondering them in her heart.” The father’s wise counsel to his son in Proverbs 4 includes the instruction to “ponder the path of your feet.” In Psalm 143, King David responded to a season of despair and distress with a commitment to “ponder the work of Your hands,” and sees it as a synonym of “remember” and “meditate.”

Pondering is obviously a good thing.  It matters. It is good for us. But has it been squeezed out of our busy 21^stcentury lives?

Our lives are noisy. The phrase “surround sound,” originally coined as a marketing tool to sell high-tech home theatres, accurately describes most of our daily experience. Screens constantly bombard us with noise, often simultaneously in multiple rooms of our houses. The car radio can fill our travel time with songs or podcasts curated specifically for our tastes. Our phones loudly notify us when anyone, anywhere, wants a piece of us.

Pondering demands quiet, which tends to be in short supply these days. As a result, pondering has become a lost art. 

I had no idea how much I would enjoy pondering when we became sabbath-observant in 2011. Like a man who has never stood in awe on the rim of the Grand Canyon, or tasted a warm chocolate-almond croissant in a French bakery, I didn’t know what I was missing. As a result, I didn’t really miss it. Pondering snuck into my life in the quiet of rest, and stunned me with its beauty. It’s now one of my favorite spiritual disciplines.

One example jumps to mind.  On a Sabbath hike above Flagstaff a few years ago, while listening to my Sabbath worship playlist on Spotify, I heard a song that mentioned gratitude for the ways God shapes us through others. I stopped the song and thanked God for the people who had shaped me over the years.  But that didn’t seem specific enough in the moment.

I decided to reflect back on my Christian life in 5-year segments, starting with my decision to follow Jesus in 1969. I asked the Lord to bring to mind the names and faces of people who had impacted me significantly in each season, so I could thank Him for using them to shape me. That prayerful trip down memory lane lasted more than a half hour, and was rich in nostalgia and gratitude.  It was unexpectedly delightful to focus on the “crowd of witnesses” (Hebrews 12:1) who had surrounded me and cheered on my growth over the decades. It ended with a request that I would live in such a way that I might appear on a similar list for others.

I never would have made time for such an unforgettable moment before we committed ourselves to rest. In seeking quiet on a regular basis, I’m far more open to spiritual practices that require silence in order to blossom and do their work.

The art of pondering is at the top of my list of unexpected benefits of Sabbath rest. Let me know if you’d like to talk about ways it might sneak into your life.  I’m glad it has become normal in mine.

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The Voice of the Lord

What does the voice of the Lord sound like?

In teaching about Sabbath rest, I often mention that Sabbath provides time to ponder – a lost art in our busy world.  I love to ponder. And it’s a little surprising what comes to mind when we allow our thoughts to wander spontaneously into new and unexplored places, like a hiker setting off on a new trail.

This question came to my mind during a Sabbath time a few weeks ago, and I’ve been chewing on it ever since.  What does – what WILL – the voice of God sound like?

Some clarification is needed here. I’m not talking about the “still small voice” of the leading of the Holy Spirit. Nor am I talking about the voice of God speaking through Scripture. I’m not even wondering what it sounded like to Moses or Isaiah or other prophets who had individual conversations with God and passed them on to His people with the phrase “Thus says the Lord…”

I’m talking about God’s awe-inspiring voice. I’m talking about the voice that is loud enough for entire groups of people to hear. It’s the voice from heaven that called out at the baptism of Jesus, “This is my beloved Son…” That same voice, calling out some of the same words, caused the three disciples to fall on their faces in terror at the Mount of Transfiguration. It’s the voice that responded audibly to the prayer of Jesus in John 12 – some in the crowd thought it was thunder, others thought it was the voice of an angel.  Jesus said to them in that moment “This voice has come for your sake, not mine” (John 12:30).

It may come for our sake, but those who have heard it did not find it easy to describe. It is most commonly compared to powerful sounds from nature. Job describes His voice as roaring, thundering, and rumbling (Job 37). In Revelation 1, John compares it to “the roar of many waters.” In Psalm 18, King David repeats the allusion to thunder, and adds lightning, hailstones, and coals of fire that laid bare the foundations of the world. Wow.

What an awesome voice it must be.

The most extensive treatment of the voice of God is found in the worshipful context of Psalm 29. After calling on His people to ascribe to the Lord the glory due His name, and to worship the Lord in the splendor of holiness, David turns his attention to God’s voice. The following verses include these dramatic phrases:

The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord, over many waters.

The voice of the Lord is powerful; the voice of the Lord is full of majesty.

The voice of the Lord breaks the cedars; the Lord breaks the cedars of Lebanon.

The voice of the Lord flashes forth flames of fire.

The voice of the Lord makes the deer give birth and strips the forests bare, and in his temple all cry, “Glory!”

I find myself yearning to hear His majestic voice. What an awesome moment that will be.

But still I wonder, what will it sound like? And how will I respond?

One day, I’ll know the answers to both of those questions.

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Fallen Trees

Aspen groves have become my favorite place to hike.  But there’s something sad – almost tragic – about a grove of aspen where most of the trees have fallen.

My favorite Sabbath Hike trail, on the slopes of a mountain above Flagstaff at 9000 feet, passes through such a grove. I’m not sure what happened, or when it happened, to take down so many beautiful trees.  Was it a windstorm? An avalanche? The cause is a mystery, but the effect is sobering.

It’s just … wrong. Aspen should stand tall, swaying in the breeze, majestic in their beauty. These ones are uprooted, knocked down, decomposing in the dirt. They sadden me.

That grove has become for me a sacred place of pleading with God, because it reminds me of so many Christian leaders in my life who have fallen over the years.  I won’t get specific here, because it’s too depressing. But I can name (and maybe you can too) far too many leaders who have crashed to earth like these trees. They once filled arenas, inspired a following, led important movements, preached to hundreds of thousands. I read their books, attended their conferences, and in some cases patterned my ministry after theirs.

But they fell, loudly, with huge collateral damage. Some proved to be guilty of horrific sexual abuse or cover-ups. Others led with an oppressive hand, dominating and spiritually abusing those who served under them. Some misused their finances, proving to be unworthy of the trust of their supporters. 

Many years ago, a fellow-pastor mourned the “depressing thud” of yet another nationally-known leader falling off the pedestal upon which the evangelical church had placed him.

I hate the thuds.

I sometimes wonder whether the lesser-known failures are even more impactful to those who are hurt by them. A youth pastor in a small church leaves his wife to marry a student. Missionaries are sent home because they cause conflict on the team, or refuse to deal with issues in their family. These “smaller” tragedies don’t make national headlines, but they leave life-long scars.

This grove reminds me of all of them, the famous and the obscure.  And it reminds me that I am not immune to these failures, and that I and those who serve alongside me might be one awful decision away from disaster.

So standing in front of this grove, aware of the sin and the pain that it symbolizes, I pray.  First, I pray for myself, that God would give me victory over the temptations that are a normal part of ministry life. I ask God to help me “withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm” (Eph. 5:13). I want the vertical aspen, not the horizontal ones, to tell MY story.

Then I pray the same for my family, for those who serve alongside me, for those who lead me and shepherd me, and for those who are under my pastoral care. I want them to stand firm too.  I want the vertical aspen to tell THEIR story.

I’m writing this post because I want the vertical aspen to tell your story too. Learn the lesson of the fallen aspen, but more importantly, embrace the goal of the standing aspen. Their beauty says something important about their Creator.  Our lives can do the same.

They can, and they will, when with His help, we stand firm. 

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Punching God

Who was the first person to punch the Son of God in the face?

I’ve been pondering that question a lot lately (I’m not sure how or why my curiosity began), and on Passion weekend, it seems to be an appropriate time to write about it. According to my Harmony of the Gospels (a book that brings all four gospel accounts into a chronological timeline), it would appear that the first physical violence perpetrated against Jesus is found in John 18. It took place during the trial before the high priest after His arrest.  Here is the passage, verses 22-23:

When He had said these things, one of the officers standing by struck Jesus with his hand, saying, “Is that how you answer the high priest?” Jesus answered him, “If what I said is wrong, bear witness about the wrong; but if what I said is right, why do you strike me?” 

The aggressive step taken by that anonymous “officer standing by” was far more significant than he knew at the time. It was the first of a long series of violent acts against Jesus that would result in His death on a cross the next day. And while the violence that followed increased in its intensity and its consequences, I can’t help but think about the line that was crossed by that first blow.

A man raised his hand violently against God. Creation bruised its Creator. The inventor of the human body was assaulted in the body in which He had wrapped Himself in Bethlehem. The fist of a soldier caused Him physical pain.

And He allowed it to happen. That stuns me. He had told Peter at His arrest that twelve legions of angels were on call if He chose to put an end to the awful process.

He didn’t call on them.  He didn’t run away. He didn’t end it.

He took the blow.

I wonder how many earlier rebellions were wrapped up in the fist of that officer. Did it include Israel’s stubborn “No!” to God’s commandments? Did it contain Pharoah’s refusal to let God’s people go? Did Jesus hear “Am I my brother’s keeper?” and “I want that fruit” and “God is coming, let’s hide!” as the blow landed? If I were making a film about this moment, I think I would put the blow in slow motion, and overlay a video collage of human sin as the fist of the officer inched its way toward the face of Jesus.

Sadly, the collage would include my own sin. That fist contains my pride, my stubbornness, my rebellion.

He allowed it to happen.  He stood there, accepting the blow, and anticipating many more to come. 

The blow was necessary. So were the nails. His pain had a purpose. In fact, it was His goal all along.  It wasn’t surprising to Him. It was an unavoidable step in the process of the atonement, buying forgiveness for all of the sin that pushed that fist toward His face, including mine.

And His question rings down through the centuries. “If what I said is right, why do you strike Me?” In light of the significance of His sacrifice that day, we might add more questions: “Why do you refuse Me?” “Why do you ignore Me?” “Why do you question My forgiveness, and My love for you?”

He let the blows land. He laid there to accept the nails. What more proof of love do we need?

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Restraining Grace and Creation Care

God created humans to be the stewards of His creation, our first task being to “cultivate and tend” the Garden in which He formed us (Genesis 2:15). Can anyone make a strong case that we have done well in this area? The list of our failures in creation care is long. Here are some examples: 

• The US government has set aside money to try to clean up more than 1300 locations across the country, known as Superfund sites, that are highly contaminated by industrial waste and are toxic to humans. 

• Driving across the central African nation of Chad several years ago, I saw dozens of bushes covered by discarded plastic bags. It turned my stomach. No one knows how long those bags will blow around the Sahara desert.

• As I type, armies are dangerously fighting near a huge concrete sarcophagus in Ukraine that shields the surrounding area from radiation caused by a massive nuclear meltdown over 35 years ago. Estimates of the time necessary for the Chernobyl reactor site to become safe range from hundreds of years to 20,000. 

• There are sections of every ocean that are full of floating microplastics and other debris – the largest is called the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. We have turned our oceans into trash dumps.

This is a partial and widely-acknowledged list of ways that we have fallen short of our divine mandate to care for God’s creation. We are poor stewards.

And yet … natural beauty still surrounds us. As bad as things are, they are not as bad as they could be. Despite ourselves, we can still enjoy mountains and rivers and pine trees and roses and beaches and sunsets and waterfalls and green grass and fields of wildflowers and Fall colors and so much more.  We may need to go hunting for them in hidden corners of our asphalt jungles and urban or suburban sprawl.  But they exist, and they are spectacular. They point us to God in ways that are undeniable. 

Who gets credit for that beauty? On today’s Sabbath hike on the snow-covered slopes of Spruce Mountain south of our town, I gave that credit to God. In the same way that 2 Thessalonians 2 explains that God is “restraining” the forces that will one day initiate the catastrophic events that will lead to the return of Christ, I believe that He is also holding back the powers and individuals who would take over creation for ugly purposes. I believe He is protecting His creation from us. That protection is undeserved.  I call it “restraining grace.”

Let’s not waste it.  Go hunting for places near you that bear His fingerprints. Trust me, they are out there. I was living in suburban Los Angeles when I started hiking ten years ago, and I was amazed even there at how accessible and varied those places were. It may be a river or a lake, a park or a garden, a trail or a flower. It may be a star-filled sky or a beautiful sunset. But it is not as far away as you may think.

Go find it.  When you do, if it’s in your power, care for it.  And as you bask in its beauty, thank the Creator for His restraining grace.

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A Tale of Two Gardens

A short phrase in John 18 jumped out at me this morning, because it pointed to a pattern in the life of Jesus. A pattern not about people – He had many patterns like that – but about a place. Verse 2 says of the Garden of Gethsemane, “Jesus often met there with His disciples.” That’s how Judas knew where it was, and he assumed that he would find Jesus there. He was right. Jesus apparently liked to go there.

He could have met with His men anywhere, but Jesus LIKED to go to a garden. Let that sink in.

I find myself wondering why, and also wondering what would go through His mind as He met there regularly with the men through whom He was planning to change the world. Yes, it’s speculation.  But speculation can be fun.

You see, another garden figured prominently in human history.  In fact, it’s where history began – the Garden of Eden. And without delving too deeply into the mysteries of the Trinity, let’s simply recognize that Colossians 1:15-16 makes it clear that Jesus was instrumental in that moment of creation.

With that in mind, I wonder what Jesus was thinking each time He entered THIS garden with His disciples? Bible scholars believe that the word “entered” implies that it was a walled garden. Was He thinking about the time when human rebellion forced Him to drive Adam and Eve out of THAT garden? Was He thinking about the moment when, rather than building a wall, He stationed an angel at the entrance to make sure they could not return and gain access to the Tree of Life in their sinful condition?

What was Jesus thinking as He worked so hard in THIS garden to open the eyes of these men to spiritual truth? Was He thinking back to the moment in THAT garden when the blindness was born, when the first humans heard that truth twisted and perverted by a serpent? In that moment Satan blinded the minds of Adam and Eve, and condemned their descendants to the same spiritual blindness (2 Cor 4:4). It’s why the disciples and their countrymen were unable to see “the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ.” Jesus had been living among that blindness for 33 years. What was that like for Him?

What was He thinking as the mob arrived to arrest Him? His plan was coming full circle. The sin of THAT garden required a spotless sacrifice, the voluntary death of the Son of God that was now beginning in THIS garden. There is something poetic about it. It makes me smile. I wonder, as He contemplated the terrible death that was His destiny since before the Garden of Eden (Rev 3:18), if it did the same for Him.

I’m glad that gardens matter.  I’m glad that the human race was born in one. I’m glad that our Creator, when He lived with us, liked to hang out in one. And I’m amazed that His plan to die on a cross to undo the tragic destruction of THAT garden began in THIS one.

It’s enough to make you marvel at how well God knows what He is doing.

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“… but the Lord directs his steps.”

(This content went out yesterday in our first Prayer Letter for the new ministries that we describe here. My apologies if you have already seen it – we’re trying to give it the maximum possible exposure. See the P.S. below if you would like to be included in future prayer letters – they will not usually be posted to my blog)

You may know that we spent 15 years as missionaries with the Baptist General Conference, which changed its name to Converge while we were serving overseas.  When we returned to SoCal to a pastoral position in 2001, we thought our days as missionaries were behind us.  We’re glad that part of our Stateside role has always involved shepherding people toward cross-cultural service and caring for the missionaries that we sent out, and we expected to remain in church-based ministry until we retired. God had other plans, and has directed our steps in exciting new directions! 

Step #1  Member Care

In 2017, as mentioned elsewhere on this blog, we were invited to join five others on the Member Care team of Converge to give pastoral care to its workers around the world. That invitation included the chance to serve full-time, but we opted to stay in church work here in Arizona and serve the mission agency as volunteers. We took on a pastoral role in the lives of 18 Converge families based in North America, and bought a large house here in Prescott to provide a place of rest and refreshment for our global missionary colleagues.  Over the last 2 ½ years, we’ve had the joy of hosting and encouraging over 25 families and singles in our Selah Suite. Our guests stay for free, their expenses covered by a team of donors. We love to care for those who care for others. Those ministries have been exciting, but a little frustrating as well, since our volunteer status kept us from dedicating as much time to them as they deserved.

Step #2  Pathways

Last January, our involvement in Converge broadened when I was invited to spearhead a new ministry to train our international partners to understand and preach God’s word.  That ministry, called Pathways, has already sparked interest in three African nations. The pandemic has slowed its development, but we expect broad enthusiasm for this crucial training in the near future. I have led Pathways workshops in Kenya and Congo, so I already know the powerful difference it can make in the ministries of pastors and their churches.

Step #3 Part-time Status

The time pressure I mentioned above was resolved in November, when I stepped away from our church ministry here in Prescott.  Converge has agreed to take us on part-time until we reach 65 (2021 for Murf and 2023 for me), at which time some retirement resources should allow us to return to our previous volunteer status and keep serving as long as the Lord allows. WE NEED YOUR PRAYERS as we head into this new season of focus on these important ministries.

We naturally have some financial needs between now and then. The new expenses of part-time status (salary, health insurance, and work funds for travel and hospitality) mean that we need to raise over $5000/month for the next 2-3 years.  We’re building a team of financial partners and churches that will help us to bridge that short gap, and we’re glad that generous donors have already brought us to about 20% of that goal. Would you consider joining that team? If so, you will find our Converge donation page at https://converge.org/missionary/mike-murf-gaston  Thank you for praying about this opportunity.

We plan to use this mailing list to send out occasional updates to our friends and supporters, but our ministry Facebook page will be the best way to stay current on our ministries.  You can find it here:  https://www.facebook.com/GastonMemberCareMinistry  If you “like” it, most of our updates should appear on your Facebook news feed.   

It’s not entirely true that we didn’t see this coming, because the Pastor to Missionaries position caught our eye when it was first created by Converge in the 90s. I even asked to be considered for it, until I realized that it was an empty-nest job.  Our nest is empty now, and our hearts are full of excitement at the opportunities in front of us! Whether you participate through prayer or finances or both, we are so grateful to have you head into this season with us.

So as the Gaston family motto says, “Let’s see where this road goes.” 

P.S. If you would like to be on a mailing list for our prayer letters and updates, please write to me mikeg@converge.org.

P.P.S. The verse that I used as a title to this e-mail was the theme verse for our introductory missionary slide show in 1986.  We have indeed come full-circle.  🙂

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A COVID-19 Prayer

Heavenly Father, You owe us nothing.  In fact, we acknowledge that we deserve far worse than the pandemic that has disrupted our world.  We have corrupted Your creation, and we have rejected and killed our fellow humans for reasons no better than those that drove Cain to kill his brother. We are pride-filled people, obsessing over the specks in our brothers’ eyes while ignoring the logs in our own.   We have abandoned our God-given role as stewards of the world in which You placed us. We refuse to love You with all of our heart and soul and mind and strength, and we fail to love our neighbors, however they look and wherever they live, as we love ourselves. We divide over the color of our skin, and we refuse to come to the aid of the oppressed. We fall short of Your glory.

We are sinners, and we richly deserve the judgment of a holy God. As such, we have no claim on You.

When You are good to us, it is not based on any virtue that You see in us. When You show mercy, it is simply because You are merciful.  That is Your nature.  You love the unlovable, You forgive the unforgivable, and You show grace to those who deserve Your wrath. Thank You for being that kind of God. We stand in awe of You.

Would you be good to us once again? Would you be kind to the work of Your hands? Would You bring a quick end to the suffering and the death and the isolation and the pain of our day? We humbly request Your restorative and healing intervention, not because we deserve it, because of who You are. Hear us, Father, and respond to our plea, for the sake of Your name.

Lord Jesus, thank You for not quarantining Yourself from the hot zone of our world.  You were safer at home, but You came to us.  You lived among us, You taught us, You healed us, and You loved us. You walked through a world of anger and hatred, of pain and misery, and You responded in ways that brought good to Your people and glory to Your Father.

As we await Your intervention, would You show us how to do what You did? Would You show us how to navigate a challenging path while bringing glory to our Father? Would you show us how to wear a mask without hiding behind it? We need You on our best days, and we need You on our hardest days.

Please re-create Yourself in us, Lord Jesus.  Our suffering world needs more of You.  May they find You in us.

We pray these things for the good of our world, and for the glory of its Creator,

Amen

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The Idol of the Green Light

“I need to surround myself with positivity.” “The enemy wants to stop us from moving forward.” “I can’t let anyone come between me and what the Lord wants me to do.” “We have a mission to accomplish, so get on board, or get out of the way.”

Have you heard comments like that? I have. I’ve heard them in a variety of settings, but I think they are especially common when Christians are highly motivated to tackle Big Hairy Audacious Goals. They stir up the team, motivate the hesitant, and become rallying cries for progress.

But they are based on an assumption. They assume that we serve a God of green lights, and that any lights other than green are not His.

I think it’s possible for us to make an idol out of green lights.

The God we serve is not hesitant to flash red lights. He told the Israelites in Numbers 14 to NOT enter the promised land after they had disobeyed on the border – they paid a price when they did anyway. He told King David to NOT build a temple in Jerusalem, because that task was reserved for his son Solomon (1 Chronicles 17). Paul and his church-planting team wanted to take their ministry into Asia, but they were mysteriously “forbidden by the Holy Spirit” (Acts 16:6) from doing so.

Does God have the right to say no? Of course He does. But something causes us to brush aside that possibility.

If the idolatry of the green light doesn’t come from the Bible, where does it come from? I don’t claim any special insight into the question, and I don’t bring reams of research to the discussion.  But it sounds to me like an attempt to apply a simplistic power of positive thinking to issues that often require much more discernment than that.

For many years, it was my responsibility to form short-term mission teams and send them to serve alongside our church’s missionary partners.  We assured those partners that we would send our best, people that had been screened, evaluated, and had much to offer.  We occasionally chose poorly, and sent people who should not have gone, with painful results for the ministry. As time went on, we raised the evaluation bar, and we were increasingly willing to decline applicants who were not qualified to serve. It was difficult to reveal those decisions to the applicants, and several folks left our church over our unwillingness to give them a green light. But I don’t regret those decisions.  I think the red lights were appropriate.

I’ve come to appreciate the red lights in my own life. My marriage, my family, my ministry, and my health have all been positively impacted by closed doors and by God’s refusal to grant my initial requests. I’m grateful for them.  Looking back, I realize that the red lights were of divine origin.

We need to smash the idol of the green light.  We need to listen to a variety of voices as we face significant decisions (Proverbs 11:14), without deciding in advance which ones matter, and which ones don’t.

God invented ALL the colors, not just green. He says yes, and He says no.  And that’s OK.

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8 Years of Sabbath

It was the very definition of a watershed moment, a dividing point from which things would never be the same.

On October 28, 2011, I shrugged a ratty old backpack onto my shoulders and set out on a trail called Rice Canyon north of Los Angeles. I had recently been exposed for the second time to the spiritual value of intentional rest, and my attempts to learn how to rest four years earlier had gotten no traction. Knowing there might not be a third chance, I was determined to carve Sabbath into my schedule. I knew that I wasn’t disciplined enough to rest at home, so stealing a page from Eugene Peterson’s book Working the Angles, I decided that my sabbath should be nature-oriented. For the first time, I went for a walk with God in the midst of His artistry. (The pictures are from that hike).

I had no idea what would happen.  I had no idea that I was entering into a spiritual discipline that would quickly become the most life-giving I had ever encountered. I had no idea that it would lead to a blog, and a bit of amateur photography. I had no idea that my wife and I would eventually embrace a ministry, and buy a house, in order to encourage missionaries to learn how to rest.

Over the last eight years, I’ve read a LOT of other books on rest (The Rest of God by Mark Buchanan still being my favorite). I haven’t kept track, but it’s safe to say that there have been well over 300 Sabbath hikes, with an unknown number of Sabbath drives when health didn’t allow for a hike.  Intentionally seeking long stretches of time to be alone with my Lord, in places that point me to Him, has taught me to enjoy His presence in ways that are transformational, and difficult to describe.

It would be impossible to summarize all that God has taught me (us, actually, since my wife has her own approach) in a short blog post.  But here is a partial list:

• God’s creative activity was not complete until He had rested (Genesis 2:2).
• Jesus’ command “Come to me … and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28) is the only one of His commands that I’ve ever bragged about breaking.
• Leading God’s people to rest is one of the responsibilities of shepherding (Ezekiel 34:15), and you can’t take others where you have not been yourself.
• God’s nature and His attributes truly CAN be seen clearly through what He has made (Romans 1:20). In fact, they are vivid!
• There is a Pharisee in me who wants to make Sabbath all about rules, and a Task-master in me who is irritated when I’m not productive. I hate them both.
• If we can’t imagine Jesus saying “You’ve been busy. You’ve done enough for now. It’s time to rest” (Mark 6:31), our picture of Him is incomplete in a HUGELY significant way.
• Sabbath is not about prohibitions. It’s about liberation, freeing time to do what refreshes you and brings Him pleasure.
• Sometimes a Sabbath hike turns out to be more hike than Sabbath. That’s OK.
• Our heavenly Father, the Perfect Father, takes delight in spending time with His kids. Why wouldn’t He? And that delight is delightfully mutual.

Eight years down – how many more to go?  That’s a mystery.  But I’m looking forward to them. Because with the help of the One who rested, they will continue to be filled with regular, intentional, contemplative, Christ-centered rest. I wish you the same.