More on this book
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Just like music is the gift of the composer to the player, rest is the gift of Jesus to the Christian.
Because rest is different than you probably think, and more important than you’ve probably imagined.
So for now, hang on to that simple definition—Sabbath is a time of rest, holy to the Lord.
Prior to God bringing time, matter, angels, and everything else into being, the only being was God. Was he hurried, rash, or anxious? Or bored? Or stressed out about the ensuing creation task that ahead of him? Jesus actually tells us the answer. He says to his Father, “You loved me before the foundation of the world” (John 17 v 24). Love. Fullness. Joy. Unhurried satisfaction in the Son
As the 20th-century pastor A.W. Tozer put it, “What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.”
The exhalation of the effort was followed with the inhalation of enjoyment, fulfillment, and satisfaction within the relationships of the Trinity.
Every time I hear someone tell me how busy I am, I’m tempted to think, “Well, yes, look at all I do and how important I am.” Those words appeal to something in me—and that something is not good, because it’s pride. Of course I’m busy, because I’m a human with a job.
Peter Scazzero’s book, Emotionally Healthy Spirituality,
Retired people don’t retire from life. They often find upon entering retirement that the only change is that they now no longer have their jobs to cover over the deep pain and dysfunction in their souls.
All these things—work, money, kids, health, sex, food, and drink—are good. God made each of them. But pursued too much, for the wrong reasons, they don’t bring us rest. They burn us out.
Regular rest is the practice by which we say with our lives, “The God who made the world rules the world, and I trust him to do it better than me.”
Embracing Jesus as my Savior means admitting that I need saving from systems that demand I keep working and achieving.
When you begin to feel these lies anxiously crawling into your ears, hear the gospel remind you that you’re not essential, that your work could never build eternity—and that that is fine, because it doesn’t need to. God already did it all, in Jesus: 8 By grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, 9 not a result of works. (Ephesians 2 v 8-9)
Work is a great gift. But in my work-worship, I had begun to feed emotionally from the wrong place. I preferred to hear, “Pastor Adam, great sermon today,” than to spend time with my family.
Sabbath rest enables me to remember that I can actually regain the emotional and physical energy that I need to serve Jesus, from Jesus.
The refusal to stop is a refusal to accept our creatureliness. It is a subtle rejection of God’s ability to rule his world, rescue his people, and rejuvenate them along the way. Rest—a
That’s why Psalm 127 v 2 says: It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives to his beloved sleep.
And the ritual of biblical rest reminds us of our God, and his story. Rest is given for us to remember God, ourselves, and the true story of the world.
God’s people had suffered from a kind spiritual amnesia ever since their inception.
The story of the whole Bible is in many ways the story of a people who always forget their God, and a God who always remembers his people.
The whole book of Judges is a warning of the horrendous results of spiritual forgetfulness.
Do you hear the tragedy in Ezekiel’s words? God’s people hadn’t shown up for their Thanksgiving Dinner. “I gave them my Sabbaths … and my Sabbaths they greatly profaned.” They skipped Sabbath rest, and as they let go of the ritual of rest, they forgot what they most needed to remember, and let go of all that they most needed to grasp. They let go of God. Curses, pain, and exile ensued.
you’ll probably realize that the non-stop pace of Western-world life is neither physically sustainable nor spiritually beneficial. It is, however, a remarkably effective way to slowly forget God.
My value lies not in what I do but in who I am. My identity is in being an image-bearer, not in my contribution to the economy or my status in my community.
We have made the meaning of life to find ourselves, rather than to find God.
then we’ll make the world a better, brighter place for the generations to come.
This great secular hope is the kingdom into which much of our labor is designed to bring us.
Salvation lies in God and what he graciously gives, not in me and what I grasp to gain.
God loves you, God has saved you, God has in store for you a future so dazzling your mind cannot comprehend it. There is nothing you have done to deserve all that—nothing—and that’s OK, because it’s all freely given. This is all true of anyone who trusts in Christ. Anyone. You. Re-read that paragraph. Rest in it.
We need ritual rest because we need to regularly remember. God knows we need it, and he also knows that the risks in forgetting are legion. Regular rest is our remembering ritual.
All your work will be done for one of these two ends: to glorify God or to justify yourself.
We are insufficient to explain our own existence. So we work for the one thing that we’re unable to give ourselves: meaning… purpose… a justification for our own existence.
It’s an act of resistance against the false god-king of this world who always demands that we do. It’s open rebellion against the systems of this world that demand we do in order to be.
Autonomy comes from two Greek words (autos and nomos) which mean “self-law,” and the ruler of this world is quite happy to let you believe that you have autonomy in spades. You don’t really, of course. But in thinking you do, you happily wander deeper into his labyrinth.
“Did God really say?” and “Did God really say enough?” are two questions that drive us deeper into sin and exhaustion. They come from two different starting points—the rebellious and the religious—but they both spring from the heart that craves to be autonomous.
You won’t find you by clambering about in your own subconscious, but by bringing your whole self to him.
But our Pharaoh is more subtle, because while we think we’re living the dream, we’re only tightening our chains. Making more money, raising perfect kids, getting good grades, or even growing great churches or starting successful non-profits are, in our enemy’s hands, shackles in disguise.
Dissatisfaction gives way to self-incarceration.
Embracing the art of rest means declaring each week, “No. I will not live as my society demands, but as my Savior desires.” Rest forces us to face questions that may unearth our deep mistrust of God.
Every problem started with a worship problem.
We refuse rest because, at some deep level, we’re convinced that if we stop, the thing for which we’re really living won’t be fed, pleased, or procured.
If you’re happier at work than in Christ, rest will never feel good. If you’re more of a mother to your children than you are a daughter of the King, stopping may feel like sin.
Make less money but make more of Christ. Tell your daughter no so that she can see you say yes to God.
So as you rest, embrace an avocation. Avocation is just a fancy word for hobby—something you do to rest that isn’t your job.
I’m always a little amazed at how many people I counsel about rest, but who never open their Bibles on their day off. The art of rest is about learning how to rest with Jesus, not from Jesus.
That’s why Eric Liddell could run so hard and enjoy every step. His race was worship, its result was not all-important, and so his work, and his rest, could be peaceful.
Sabbath is a time of rest, holy to the Lord. And you need to want it before you’ll really do it.
“Dads have too many tomorrows.” Anonymous
“CLEAN UP!” Why didn’t they understand that this was a crazy day? This was not just a normal school-and-work day. This was Wednesday—the weekly school/work/sports/youth group/right-after-the-kids-go-to-bed-I-have-a-pastoral-meeting day. Lagging five minutes late at the beginning would only make every other part of this tightly scheduled day late, too.
a sermon titled Work and Rest by Dr. Tim Keller
