Signs of Sabbath

There are signs all around us. Along sidewalks and corners are signs that let us know a political election is just around the corner. Standing above those signs are signs the seasons are changing. Maples and oaks in their splendor are signs that shorter, cooler days are on the way. Just about three weeks ago, I took Eva with me to Shelby on a Saturday morning. We had a couple of stops to make, one of which was Lowe’s. There were just a couple of items on our shopping list but, when we walked in the door, we were greeted with more signs. There were signs directing us to hardware, lumber, electrical products, kitchen & bath, and lawn & garden. There are signs everywhere.

That Saturday in Lowes, however, I noticed a big sign that was missing. You see, like many major retailers, the Christmas decorations had been on display for nearly two weeks by that point. There were beautiful artificial Christmas trees – pre-lit, of course – on display. There were wreaths, strings of lights, and boxes of ornaments. There were also large inflatable Santa Claus’s and snowmen. Alongside the Christmas decorations were Halloween decorations. There were jack-o-lanterns, a Minion holding a jack-o-lantern, and a large Darth Vader all to go in one’s front yard.

I stopped in the aisle, looked up to see the contrast from Halloween to Christmas and thought about what kind of sings they were. They were signs to customers, encouraging them to purchase these items. Almost as if to say, “Your season will not be complete without this stuff.” Together, they were signs that the holiday season is quickly approaching. The contrast caught my attention, but what has since been gnawing at me is the sign that was missing.

Amidst the clutter of commodity and the promotion of purchases was one sign that was sadly absent. There was nothing about Thanksgiving. There was not even an inflatable turkey or pilgrim hat on display. Nothing. Simply nothing about Thanksgiving. This was the strongest and clearest sign of all. The fact there was nothing about Thanksgiving suggested – to me, anyway – that Thanksgiving, and the actual practice of giving thanks, is not something that is treasured by our culture and society. It is almost as if we cannot stop long enough to give thanks for what we have because we are too busy looking for the next thing we want, need, or desire, when the truth is most of us have more than we want, need, or desire.

Since September we have placed our focus as a congregation on Sabbath. During Sunday morning worship, we have explored the meaning of Sabbath, Sabbath-keeping, and what it means to incorporate Sabbath into our daily living. You work six days and stop one. You are constantly on the move six days and stop one. Rest and satisfaction are at the core of the Sabbath.

One of the things we have learned together is that Sabbath is so much more than a religious command or a set of “blue laws.” Sabbath is a condition of the heart; a structure of character. Sabbath is itself a sign that something deeper is happening in the human soul. Sabbath is a sign that there is a change, a transformation at work. There is a shift in momentum on the Sabbath that causes us to pay attention more closely to what is around us.

Sabbath-keeping is a means of giving thanks. It is an intentional stoppage of life and work that allows time, room, space, and effort to be given to noticing all that is around us for which we are truly thankful. The trouble is our culture does not like to stop. We live in a 24/7 world where the news, the entertainment, the purchasing, and the drive for more is never-ending. It is almost as if we are so concerned with what we need next that we cannot take time to give thanks for what is already here.

In a world where it seems we do not have time to stop, the Sabbath reminds us we do not have time not to stop. The psalmist writes:

“Come, let us sing for joy to the LORD; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before Him with thanksgiving and extol Him with music and song.”

–Psalm 95:1-2

The invitation issued by the palmist is full of signs. The fact that the invitation is issued to “us” suggests that this is something we do together. We share in giving thanks as a community. Thanksgiving requires stoppage. It is a call to cease the grasping for more and to be satisfied in what is here. According to the psalmist, what is “here” is so much more than one could ever buy, earn, or work for. God is the Rock of our salvation. A sign that God is at work in life.

I believe that one of the greatest signs of our lives is the sign of thanksgiving. It is a sign that we are satisfied. A sign that we are content. A sign that we know where the blessings have come from. A sign that we can rest assured knowing God is the Rock of our salvation, the firm foundation of our living.

I think sometimes we don’t stop because we are afraid that if we stop we will not get started again. As if somehow stopping to give thanks will keep us from getting more; we will wish we had just kept going. Someone else will get the promotion. Someone else will snatch the product. Someone else will….

The truth of the matter is stopping to give thanks is an act of satisfied faith. We know all the things for which we give thanks come from God in the first place, so why be worried about getting more? I don’t know about you, but the sign of a thankful heart is one that I wish to keep growing in to.

Thanksgiving is a sign that God’s satisfied and holy presence is at work in the life of a believer. Let’s all stop, give thanks, and give our culture a new sign.

Thankful...

-ASR

The Sabbath of Fall

We are entering the time of year that is the favorite for so many of us. Fall brings on cooler mornings, crisper evenings, and beautiful colors. As the temperature and leaves both drop, and pumpkins are everywhere from our front porches to our dining room tables, we tend to make more out of the beauty of creation. Whether we are riding along the Blue Ridge Parkway or taking our usual path to work, there is a possibility that we will see something we have never seen before. Well, not necessarily something we have never seen before, but we will notice the colors of something we have never seen before.

You see the maple tree on the corner of your street. The same tree you have seen a thousand times as you are rushing out the door, late for school or work. But this time of year you take a special notice of it because there is a tinge of orange burning the edges of the leaves. There is the oak tree just outside your office window. You have seen it every day for the last ten years and every fall, you make mention to your coworkers about how beautiful it is. “I think this is the prettiest it has ever been,” you say proudly while in the breakroom with others. And not only do you notice the colors – the reds and yellows rounding out the green leaves – you also notice the wildlife that depends on the tree. The squirrels gathering acorns. The birds nesting. You cannot see this life during the spring and summer because of the leaves. You cannot see this life during the winter because of hibernation. But during the fall of the year you are able to notice a way of life that is different from the rest of the year. It is different because of the colorful display of beauty. It is different because we notice a living quality that we cannot see at other times of the year. It is different because….

Well, maybe because it is holy. Arborists tell us that the reason for the change in color is simple: the leaves stop making chlorophyll. This chemical transfers the energy of sunlight into food for the tree. When the weather begins to turn cooler, the tree knows it is time to stop the production of chlorophyll. It is when the production stops that the truest, brightest, and most spectacular colors of nature begin to emerge.

Since September, our Sunday morning sermon series has focused on the concept of the Sabbath. What does the Sabbath mean? What relevance does the Sabbath have for our 21^st-century living? One of the great truths about the Sabbath and the keeping of Sabbath is that it reminds us of who we truly are: we are the people of God. Every week, the season of life changes, the production stops, and our truest colors as the image-bearers of God emerges in a brilliant display of holy worship.

Note the stoppage in that cycle. In order for the true colors of the leaves to emerge, displaying what the leaf is supposed to look like, the production of chlorophyll must stop. In order for the true colors of our souls to emerge, displaying what and who we have been created to reflect, the production lines must stop as well. It is only when we stop doing that we are reminded of our true being.

One day when Moses was tending his sheep, paying attention to the vast flocks of his father-in-law, his attention turned toward a burning bush (Exodus 3). Moses had been working long hours in the fields in order to make ends meet and put food on the table when the eyes of his heart were directed toward the presence of God. His heart was tugged and towed away from the cycle of shepherding and was given over to the voice of the good shepherd who would guide a new flock through a desert; finding them, feeding them, and giving them a new future.

When Moses stopped what he was doing and paid attention to the presence of God in his life, the invasion of the eternal in the temporal became too much for him to bear. Even his shoes could not take it. And it was in this moment of holy otherness that the true identity of Moses was shaped and brought to light and life. Moses began to see who he was being called to be. God had a new identity waiting for Moses. God was going to use Moses as the deliverer of the Hebrews from Egypt. For centuries, even millennia, afterward, Moses would be remembered not for what he did, but for first what he didn’t do. He didn’t ignore the presence of God in front of him. As a result, the true colors of Moses came shining through. However, it was only when Moses stopped that a new life was able to start.

This is the mysterious wonder of Sabbath. It is the day of the week when the holy otherness of God invades the routine “nowness” of our living. Sabbath is a time woven into the season of the week that calls us to stop the production and to focus on the presence of God. Sabbath is that distantly close ringing bell reminding us that when we stop producing we start living a new life.

In his wonderful book titled, The Sabbath, the late Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel reminds us:

“The Sabbath is the presence of God in the world, open to the soul of man. It is possible for the soul to respond in affection, to enter into fellowship with the consecrated day” (p. 60).

Each week is filled with seasons. There are seasons of work, rest, play, life, family, and everything in between. There are seasons of stress and pause, tight schedule and scheduled breaks. And there might be time for lunch, but there might not. However, the Sabbath Day is the season of fall in the week. It is the season when we stop producing that which “gives life” in order to be truly alive in a way not possible through endless work.

The stoppage of Sabbath calls us to respond to the presence of God and allows the true colors of God’s image bearers to brilliantly burst forth in an explosion of praise. This is something we do not want to miss, but we have to stop in order to see it.

May each of us stop long enough to see the beautiful maples and oaks. May each of us stop long enough to hear God’s voice. May each of us stop doing in order to start being who we are truly created and called to be.

Time Stand Still Please!

Have you ever found yourself in a moment when you wanted time to stand still? It could have been a sunset so beautiful that you wanted it to last forever. It could have been a conversation with a friend or family member who meant the world to you. It could have been your wedding day. Moments like this happen every now and then. It is almost like the eternity of heaven fills the present of earth and there is something remarkably mysterious that takes place.

I don’t claim to understand it. In fact, I don’t always recognize it when it happens. Truth be told, we are often too busy to notice moments like this. It is only when we stop what we are doing, where we are going, and what we are saying that we are reminded of who we are being. These moments when we wish for time to stop are the moments when we are most in tune with who we truly are as a child of God. I believe that – because we are reminded of the brevity of time and the eternal nature of God and find ourselves living the intersection of both.

One of those moments happened to me this past Sunday afternoon. Sunday afternoon Annlyn woke up from her nap. Eva and Ronna were still sleeping. Annlyn wanted one thing: to go outside and ride her bike. You see, Saturday morning we spent time in the driveway and she was riding her bike and loved it. She was getting the hang of it and wanted to go out again Sunday afternoon. So we went.

The moment happened without me realizing it was coming. That’s usually how it happens, isn’t it? I watched this little girl at four years old with long brown hair pulled up in a pony tail. She was riding her bike that was decorated with Anna and Elsa and had little blue streamers coming off the bike handlebars. She was riding down the driveway to the mailbox and back up to ride in a circle. The grin on her face was as broad as the Grand Canyon.

All I could think about was that one day this same little girl is going to be grown. All I could see in my mind was one day walking her down the aisle to get married and that I would have to give her away to a man who loves her – not as much as her daddy, but close. In that moment sitting in the driveway, I wanted time to stop. I knew that in the future when I walk her down the aisle all I will be able to see is this four year old girl on a cute little bike with blue streamers riding in the driveway. Now and then. Then and now. I wanted time to stop. Not slow down. Stop.

The trouble is time doesn’t stop. It keeps moving. Time continues to click beyond us and beside us in ways we will never understand and, thankfully, never be able to control. Here we stand, at the crossroads of the past and the future, remembering what has gone before and hopeful for what is to come. Yet, we stand. We watch as time goes by. We applaud its arrival and mourn its passing. Isn't this what it means to be human? Isn't this part of what it means to bear God's image? Isn't this what it means to be a child of the God who is eternally bound to time?

I took time to pray for Annlyn and Eva - she was awake from her nap by this point and was outside with us - while sitting in the driveway Sunday afternoon. I prayed for their futures. I prayed for the men whom they will marry one day. I prayed they would always know, hear, and follow the voice of God. That they would grow to be followers of Jesus who give their lives every day in service to the Kingdom.

It caused me to think differently about the words of Paul to the Thessalonians:

"Rejoice always, pray continuously, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." (1 Thessalonians 5"16-18)

I had read these verses a thousand times before. I have preached and taught these verses. But something happened Sunday afternoon as I re-read these verses. I had never really seen - not in the context of a girl riding her bike - the instruction to rejoice ALWAYS and pray CONTINUOUSLY. These words are irrespective of time. They encapsulate time. It is almost like time stands still in their midst. Where we are now is not where we were and it is not where we will be. Give thanks for the present moment. Allow time to stand still. Know that our prayers are as timeless as the God to whom our prayers are addressed.

The image of Annlyn riding her bike is one that will never leave my memory. It is forever treasured. When the then becomes now, I will give thanks for the now that has stayed in my heart. May we all have eyes to see, ears to hear, and hearts to catch a glimpse of the inbreaking of God's presence among us.