A Theology of Sabbath In Summer

Or How I Learned To Stop Envying and Love My Kids

Jul 03, 2021

It began when I grew jealous of my children.

Starting this summer, I’d catch a glimpse of their tousled heads over the top of the couch from where I stood in the kitchen, elbow-deep in dishes. Envy erupted like lava, hot and angry: I’d like to do that! I’d like to flop on the couch and read a book without a care in the world. Why do my kids get to do it all day and I get to do it...never?

Gentle reader, who rages at their kids for READING?

(A worn-out bookworm, that’s who.)

A few times I’d let loose my ugly jealousy, banging doors and muttering under my breath, seething about adulthood and motherhood and every-other-hood I might blame for my burnout, brooding, belligerent state.

God has a way of sidling up next to me at the kitchen sink, quiet and unassuming. Exactly where I heard, while rage-washing dishes, the low, loving voice I’ve now come to know.

That’s why I gave you Sabbath.

I stopped the furious scrub of the endless pots, soap and angst swirling.

This is why you need Sabbath. Why everyone needs Sabbath.

Sabbath was carved in stone, we read in Scripture. Not a suggestion, an option, or a nudge. Not an occasional day-off, a rare afternoon nap, or a spa menu of self-care offerings.

But a commandment to keep holy. To be followed each week. Ranked above killing and stealing and cheating on your spouse.

I circle around Sabbath like a hawk. I crave it with animal instinct. My spiritual life lunges toward Sabbath, my prayer longing for peace, my body and soul yearning for rest. Yet I find it nearly impossible to put into practice, with five kids underfoot and a heap of housework and spouses with two careers that bleed into nights and weekends.

Once in a while I’ll meet someone who honors the Sabbath in intentional, life-giving, peace-bringing ways—and I want to howl with envy. (Coveting other people’s Sabbath yields a particular irony, let me tell you.)

Which brings me to this summer.

I decided the only way to change is to change something. Brace yourself for more ground-breaking revelations: I decided to take a page from my kids and start reading on the couch for 20 minutes. Revolutionary stuff here.

Guess what happened? It made 0% noticeable difference in the running of our household. Laundry and dishes and floors and bathrooms are an endless cycle.

But it started to nudge me back toward God, in that equally endless cycle of wander-and-return that makes a spiritual life. Rest made me realize how thread-bare my prayer had worn, how morning lectio had become a quick check-the-box and not a dwell-within. I remembered that whenever I leave behind the liturgy of the hours, my own hours unspool into tangles.

Funny thing about flopping on the couch and reading at night: it snuck Sabbath back into my Sunday, too. Which led me to slow down each weekend. Which led me to step back from social media. Which led me to restart my sidetracked prayer life.

Slow step by slow step.

Summer is a perfect time to sink back into Sabbath. Longer light, slower pace to savor, nature bursting into bloom. Cue the conversations of how is it already July and summer fills up so quickly, but there are months more to make the changes we crave.

You could do something small. You could sink into your favorite chair at night’s end and read a novel. You could slip the prayer book onto your laptop so you can’t start work without touching it. You could take a walk without cramming your ears full of music or news. You could take a nap when your body is screaming for sleep. (Imagine!)

Everyone needs Sabbath.

We often think of spiritual practices as a task to complete: A Good Thing to Do. We check them off the list, satisfied. But they are a way of life, an entrance beckoning us to come and see.

Sabbath spreads in my life wherever I start again.

So let yourself see where Sabbath might lead you this summer. Linger with the truth that time is hallowed not by hard work but by rest.

(Or simply flop on the couch and remember the Creator who rested.)

p.s. I’ll share a few suggestions for books & resources on Sabbath in the comments.

The Holy Labor

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