5 Reflections from a Month Not Working
Last year, as I neared my 10-year anniversary ministering at my current church (20 years in ministry total), I asked my elders about taking a month-long sabbatical. I sensed I wasn’t at my best and feared the effects on my family and congregation. Leading a church through the pandemic and divisive politics proved wearisome. As I told a trusted mentor, “I want to do ministry another 20 years, but I don’t think I can do the next 20 the way I’ve done the last 20.” I had lost all sense of pace, and I’d developed the bad habit of absorbing anxiety and stress at every turn. Instead of walking alongside others, I unwisely tried to carry things I had no business trying to carry.
Graciously, my elders agreed, and so, during May of this year, I took a month off from my church. I spent a month not working. I took a few days to wrap up my semester teaching at Lipscomb University. I prepared for and completed a weeklong trip to Israel, my first time there which I’ll write about soon. I went camping one weekend with my family. I piddled in my yard. I chaperoned my kids’ Field Day. I ran. I swam. I hiked. I spent lots of time outside every day. I visited other churches and even a synagogue. I read a lot. I realize the unique blessing of getting to take a month off. I do not take it for granted, and I’m beyond grateful. This is what I learned.
There are layers of rest I never knew existed. Every week, I entered another layer. I kept thinking, “this is what rest is like”, and then I’d find myself in an even deeper layer. It’s incredibly hard to describe. My heart felt at peace. My soul neared healing. I found myself slowing down. I talked less. I talked slower. I found myself thinking about fewer things but thinking deeper about those things. I’ve always known that modern life in America takes shape at a rapid, frenetic pace. I’ve long known I’m not immune to that. Yet, when I finally stopped, I had the clarity to see how frantic I’d become, especially in recent years. I worshipped at the altar of productivity, and yet I moved so fast and hurried as the goal post for that ever-elusive productivity kept moving further and further away. I knew so much of this intellectually before May. But during and after May, I finally saw it and experienced it in my whole being.
Leading up to my sabbatical, I read a work recommended by several friends, “The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry” by John Mark Comer. I read it twice, as it resonated on so many levels. Comer, a church leader in Portland, Oregon, sets the stage for our current crises of hurry and then explores four practices – silence, sabbath, simplicity, and slowing. He shows how we see all these practices in the life and example of Jesus. For anyone trying to resist that sensation of uncontrollable franticness and discover sustainable pace, I highly recommend it.
For me, I came out of this month of not working with five main realizations.
1. Change Gears Occasionally. Life does not always have to run at 5th gear. Sometimes, 3rd gear proves the most sustainable option. Put differently, no one sprints a marathon. As a lifelong distance runner, I’m embarrassed that it’s been so challenging to apply this running truth to my pace of life. Some seasons of life call for a sprint or 5th gear, but not all. Picking spots and embracing pace is not laziness. It’s wisdom.
2. Rest takes time and scheduling. Rest doesn’t just automatically happen when nothing else is going on. Rest demands an investment of time. Specifically, for me, I noticed that each week of rest lead to an even deeper level. It reminds me of a good friend who annually takes 2 weeks of vacation at once in the summer. He’s always told me something special happens in that second week, and now I finally understand. No matter our situation or context, healthy rest deserves intentional scheduling.
3. Doing fewer things better is often more productive. Admittedly, I’ve been thinking about this since finally reading Cal Newport’s “Deep Work” earlier this year. But during my sabbatical, it become even clearer. The clarity that came with rest gave me the vision to distinguish between busy nonessential tasks and meaningful initiatives. Rest helps us see what distracts us, and our distractions are what often funnel us towards non-essential hurrying and franticness.
4. God renews me in nature. Besides being with godly people I love in worship, nothing restores my soul like being with God in nature. Running. Hiking. Neighborhood walks. Checking email on the back porch. Reading on the deck. Being outside rejuvenates me in a way that remains hard to describe. After sustained time outside, I’m calmer and more relaxed.
5. Sabbath is good for us. No doubt, Jesus teaches us to resist legalistic styles of Sabbath keeping. Still, Jesus sets an example of setting aside time for rest. Whether that’s on Saturday, Sunday, or two hours on Thursday afternoon, a weekly time of rest renews us. Personally, I’m recommitting to a restful Sunday afternoon. Certainly, that will require me to finish my yard work, maintenance, errands, and household chores on Saturday. Preparation is key. But I believe 4-5 hours on Sunday afternoon will connect me to the healing experience I just had in May.
I realize the uniqueness of my situation, and I’m aware not everyone has the luxury of a month-long sabbatical. Certainly, rest and Sabbath will look different for all of us. Sadly though, in our world, rest won’t happen automatically. It demands intentionality. As I’ve gone back to work, I’m learning a greater balance of work and rest. My work has been richer and deeper as my weekly rhythms of rest continue. However it takes shape, may you experience the God who rested and desires us to experience divine rest and peace.
