A Song of Sabbath Rest
Nestled just a few chapters into the fourth book of the larger collection of chapters we call Psalms is a song. But this is song is unlike most others. This is a song for Sabbath. A psalm filled with promises of praise and rest.
In the midst of perhaps one of the most emotional and loss-laden seasons I have walked through in quite a while, I find the thoughts of my mind and the longings in my heart drifting back often to the short fifteen verses of this song for Sabbath rest.
“It is good to give thanks to the LORD, to sing praises to your name, O Most High; to declare your steadfast love in the morning, and your faithfulness by night” (Ps. 92:1-2 ESV).
In the average of the everyday and in uncertain circumstances. In the little joys that surprise and astound us to the unexpected deep valleys of loss and pain. There is goodness to be found in remembering God.
My situations have no bearing on God. There is reason to give thanks for that, friends. When we declare God’s steadfast love and faithfulness that surround us in the waking of each morning and the darkness of each night, we remind ourselves of who God is. And when we declare to ourselves and those around us the covenant, forever-keeping love of God and the unbroken faithfulness that define his character, we start to learn what it means to rest.
We can start to breathe deep. For resting starts with remembering who God is. And even in the hardest circumstances, God’s goodness and mercy follows us for all our days (Ps. 23:6). This is a wonderful reason to let his songs of love wash over us and begin to learn to rest.
At first glance, this psalm sounds like a lot of praising. Like many of the psalms before and many we read after, there is the call to praise God. And often I fall into the bad habit of thinking that praising feels a lot like doing, not resting.
In doing, I can relate. As a wife, a mother, a daughter and sister, a friend, there is always much doing to get done. However, if I’m honest, while my activities can often echo with the heaviness of exhaustion there is also a comfort level I can embrace in my own doing.
The boo-boos that need kissed. The hugs that need given. The dishes that need cleaned. The laundry to be folded. The conversations of guidance or support that need to be had with friends and family. The lingering work that needs to be done before the end of day. There is always something more to do. In doing, I can believe the lie that whispers that somewhere in this busy cycle of the sun’s rising and falling, I am in control by my doing.
This little song for Sabbath rest challenges my idea of doing and of rest:
“For you, O LORD, have made me glad by your work; at the works of your hands I sing for joy” (Ps. 92:4 ESV).
God’s work is the start of my rest. And to think of the work of God is to pause my own busy doing and instead stand in awe.
He who flung galaxies into existence by just a word. The high and holy One who pools the oceans in the palm of His hands. The Creator who formed the sheer greatness of a mountain cliff and controls the strength of an oceans crashing wave and yet just as intricately and intentionally forms each of us, fearfully and wonderfully made.
Our Creator God modeled this call for work and rest himself at the beginning of time.
“And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God rested from all his work that he had done in creation”(Gen. 2:2-3 ESV).
God’s work models rest. When I choose to remember this, the tight grip I sometimes hold on life starts to loosen. In the wonder of my Creator, I remember whose I am. I am his. He who knows the exact shape of the solar system also sees and knows all the intimate details of my heart, he sees it all, from the moments that bring me deep joy to the fears too hard to name. He calls me his, not based on anything I’ve done or have yet to do but simply the greatness of who he is, on the goodness of a great Father who calls me to enter into his rest.
Jesus calls us to the same when he tells his disciples, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matt. 11:28-29 ESV).
When we are weary and rest is hard, when we are needy and help seems far away, Jesus reminds us he is near. And his promise of rest is deeper and better than any doing we can strive after. His rest is better than any false sense of control we can make ourselves busy trying to believe.
The rest of Jesus is full and complete with the promise of himself. Nestled deep in the rising and setting sun of our days floats the music the invites us to sing a song of Sabbath rest. And discovering rest in God’s presence fills us with the joy of discovering the goodness and greatness of God that floats all the way into eternity.
is a simple pastor’s wife who is married to her best friend and called mama by her four favorite little people. When she’s not drinking coffee or hiking with her family, she’s trying new dishes in the kitchen or blogging about creating space for Jesus conversations in your heart and home. You can find her over at RoomforWonderful.com.
Photograph © Rohit Rao, used with permission
