I believe everything that is truly worth anything begins from rest. And so, before launching this Blog – something I’ve pondered and planned and procrastinated for some time – I took a day off. I rested yesterday.  I am tempted to say “I did nothing” but that would be a lie. I took a nap. I spent time talking with people dear to me. I thought about and documented two weird dreams I had the night before. I listened to Bach and a spring training baseball game on the radio. I played catch with my son. I ate cookies – which are off limits to me on other days when I’m more focused on goals. I laughed at our puppy. Resting took effort, but now I’m rested. And now I’m ready to begin another kind of effort. I want to start a conversation about God and how our habits instigate or agitate our relationship with Him. It’s an ancient question well worn. I doubt any of us can find anything truly original to contribute. But if we dig we might unearth something usable but long forgotten. Here’s the first question: Does everything that is truly worth anything begin from rest? What do you say? We were made for work. Even before our ancestors screwed up the planet they tended the Garden of God. But from the start rest was God’s gift to demonstrate that work has limits. We are not slaves to our own efforts. To make this simple God instituted one day in seven as Sabbath. In Sabbath God tames our fears. Fear is our dominant emotion stemming from our survival instinct, the strongest of our drives. When my life is threatened, fear takes charge. When I work, I push back threats to my survival. I meet my own needs. But when I deliberately cease work, even when all the evidence says I need to press on, I give my fear to God. Sabbath is a deliberate act of trust. I say, “I know you will take care of me.” Sabbath laughs at fate and sets me care-free. When I practice Sabbath I defy the fear of death and trust God to provide my daily bread. There is something miraculous about a formal day of rest. Sabbath has a power that forces the world to comply to rules that run counter to common sense. 6/7 > 7/7. Call it “God’s math.” We can’t prove this law, but we can demonstrate it. I get more done in six days following a day set aside to foster relationships, than I do blasting through seven days straight at the grindstone. Less makes more. Some say the day of rest must come on the last day of the week. For most Christians it falls on the first day. This fits our understanding of grace. Grace means that work grows out of rest, rest doesn’t grow out of work. I don’t earn a relationship with God. My work grows from my relationship with God. Jesus worked on my behalf; I rest first. The tide of our culture runs against a Sabbath. I don’t find much sympathy when I make “rest” my excuse for saying “no” to other’s plans for my life. But when I stick to my commitment, when I push aside the guilt and ignore necessary things until tomorrow, my world expands. Time is relative to rest. And my relationship with God is relative to rest. I have yet to take a deliberate day of rest and not hear God speak something fresh to me.

• How does rest work in your life?
• Which day for you is best for rest?
• If rest means a focus on relationships (with God and others) what rhythms and patterns and rituals do you follow to help this happen?
• How would you like to rest more?