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 21st-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.
