There are only a handful of books that have arrived in my hands at the right time and have perfectly addressed the set of circumstances that I found myself wrestling with at the moment. One such book is Wayne Muller’s Sabbath; a thoughtful gift from a friend last spring that only made it to my bedside table through a series of strange coincidences at….precisely…the…perfect…moment. Muller’s wise work has had a significant impact on my thinking and has brought about real and, so far, lastly change for me and my family. Here is an excerpt:
“There is astounding wisdom in the traditional Jewish Sabbath, that it begins precisely at sundown, whether that comes at a wintry 4:30PM or late on a summer evening. Sabbath is not dependent upon our readiness to stop. We do not stop when we are finished. We do not stop when we complete our phone calls, finish our project, get through this stack of messages, or get out this report that is due tomorrow. We stop because it is time to stop.
Sabbath requires surrender. If we only stop when we are finished with all of our work, we will never stop – because our work is never completely done. With every accomplishment there arises a new responsibility. Every swept floor invites another sweeping, every child bathed invites another bathing. When all life moves in such cycles, what is ever finished? If we refuse to rest until we are finished, we will never rest until we die. Sabbath dissolves the artificial urgency of our days, because it liberates us from the need to be finished.
The old, wise Sabbath says: Stop now. As the sun touches the horizon, take the hand off the plow, put down the phone, let the pen rest on the paper, turn off the computer, leave the mop in the bucket and the car in the drive. There is not room for negotiation, no time to be seduced by the urgency of our responsibilities. We stop because there are forces larger than we that take care of the universe, and while our efforts are important, necessary, and useful, they are not (nor are we) indispensable. The galaxy will somehow manage without us for this hour, this day, and so we are invited – nay, commanded – to relax, and enjoy our relative unimportance, our humble place at the table in a very large world. The deep wisdom embedded in creation will take care of things for a while….”
In honor of this “Good Shepherd Sunday” here is Psalm 23 reworded a bit by Leslie F. Brandt:
The Lord is my constant companion.
There is no need God cannot fill.
Whether life’s course for me points to the mountaintop of glorious ecstasy,
Or to the valley of human suffering,
God is at my side.
God is ever present with me.
God is close behind me when I tread the dark street of danger,
God will never leave me.
When the pain is severe, God is near to comfort me.
When the burden is heavy, God is there to lean upon.
When depression darkens my soul, God touches me with eternal joy.
When I feel empty and alone, God fills my aching vacuum with power.
My security is in God’s promise to be near me always, and in the knowledge
That God will never let me go.
Submitted by Lisa Brown, dre@ctredeemer.org
When the burden is heavy, God is there to lean upon.
When depression darkens my soul, God touches me with eternal joy.
When I feel empty and alone, God fills my aching vacuum with power.
My security is in God’s promise to be near me always, and in the knowledge
That God will never let me go.
Submitted by Lisa Brown, dre@ctredeemer.org
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