The Unsabbathed Life by Cheryl Eichman
We expect hard work in our house. We perform to the best of our ability in the time allotted. The goal is effort, not perfection. The desire is to honor who we are, steward the gifts and talents given to us, and seize the opportunities presented. We see work as an act of gratitude, honor, and worship.
However, at times, the desire for hard work is overshadowed by the pressure to work incessantly. Stopping becomes synonymous with laziness. Taking a break is quitting. Guilt revs up anytime work winds down. We believe our perseverance is crucial to the world. This lurking lie seeks mutiny against balance and rest.
Early in my marriage, this lie captained our efforts. My husband went five years without taking a vacation. No shutdowns or sign-offs for five years straight. Additionally, because of his role as a youth pastor, he often had meetings, events, or calls outside of normal work hours. This even spilled over to me. Phone calls happened at all times, day or night. Hospital visits, fire alarms, and student struggles don’t wait until convenient times to occur. My husband had 2 am conversations at The Waffle House making sure students were safe while I sat with girls until midnight, deescalating hurt from words carelessly spoken. I don’t write this to brag. I write this to confess. Our concept of rest, if it even existed, was broken.
With no time to slow, assess, or renew, we were seasick from the relentless, pounding waves. We found ourselves out of supplies for rejuvenation, our provisions for survival were depleted, and fresh air wasn’t a strong enough remedy. It was time for a serious talk about our rhythms. We recalled a warning given to us during this time: “you either take a break to refresh or you will need a break to recover.” It was clear we already required the latter.
Through honest discussion, one thing became evident: we were living an unsabbathed life. We would not cease because we did not trust. Our schedules placated to constant demands in order to dodge reprimand, evade disappointment, and conceal our limits. And it was sinking us. We needed more than a cove to anchor in; we needed a port to disembark at and if we didn’t act swiftly, we would have to abandon ship right where we were.
As if the swirling schedule wasn’t enough, during those 5 years, we welcomed our two kids into a non-existent margin and priorities overrun by the urgent. If we didn’t change, our ship would wreck and our two-year-old and newborn would be at risk of swimming the torrent sea with us. It was clear our vigorous work ethic was dangerous without a balance of calm.
True captains understand the need for watch shifts. They know no one can crew incessantly. Deck hands need to catch their breath, helmsmen and navigators need sleep and riggers need to climb down from their towering positions or risk falling from them. We needed to understand this as well.
To engage with rest did not mean we lowered our expectations, in fact, we expected more. Letting go requires more belief, more intentionality, and more boundaries. Rest meant surrendering our maps, putting down our compasses and exchanging our trust in star charts for trust in the one who made the stars.
Rembrandt’s 1633 painting of “The Storm on the Sea of Galilee” is a profound representation of rush versus rest. Brush strokes of oil paint tell the story of 12 men scrambling above deck during a squall. Some men adjust sails, some secure rigging, one directs the rutter, while another leans over port-side, getting sick into sea.
However, there is an additional person on the boat. Jesus, and despite part of the crew yelling at him, he remains at peace. He is shown propping himself up on one elbow, having just been awakened from a nap, and he appears unperturbed by the tempest, treating it as merely a light rain. At this moment, he understands that trust is necessary, not panic.
Jesus worships God, not by doing, but by knowing. He is not being lazy or avoidant. He is surrendered.
Jesus demonstrates what my husband and I forgot, knowing God also means knowing what he is capable of, and that knowledge means we can let go of control.
Rembrandt could have depicted Christ engaged in difficult or dirty work. He could have painted Jesus fishing or washing feet. The canvas could display an image of Jesus’ healing, teaching, or even of him being mocked. But maybe Rembrandt chose this scene because it portrays something so incredibly difficult.
In multiple places, scripture refers to the idea of rest. The Old Testament points to moments of rest, days of rest, and a year of rest. Yet, I’ve only observed a year of rest in a fallow field. I rarely see someone taking a sabbatical, and when it happens, only a select few individuals in select areas of work are given the opportunity. Rest happens infrequently, probably because even resting for a day is foreign. When a lunch break feels like an implausible pause, 24 hours is inconceivable. This is where my husband and I found ourselves.
Rembrandt’s painting is alluring because the story is miraculous. And I don’t mean the calming of the storm, which is no doubt supernatural, but Rembrandt paints Jesus being calm in the storm. During the most inopportune time for a break, “The Storm on the Sea of Galilee” shows Christ taking one.
It is significant that we do not just read Jesus’ words and study his work. Like Rembrandt, we must also recognize the paces of Jesus’ life. They are recorded for a reason. Jesus walks through a field with friends and he sits at the bedside of the sick. He goes to a garden, eats at feasts, talks to crowds, slips away for solitude, and naps in a storm. Jesus did plenty of work, but he always balanced it with rest.
The lie that my husband and I battled, and continue to battle, is not original. Believing our perseverance is crucial to the world means we wait for a permission slip before we stop. We hold out for the perfect set of circumstances, setting, and mood. Rest eludes us because we want the world to slow before we do. Some seasons we may experience calm waters and white sands, other seasons we may experience raging waves with looming white caps, all the while, the world keeps spinning with its needs, wants, demands, and responsibilities. No matter the waters, we need the break. Like Jesus, it is okay to have moments of stillness. In that space, we are not competing with God for control or glory. In that space, God is exalted for who he is and who we are not.
Cheryl Eichman is a passionate follower of God who desires for people to understand and live out of the truth that Jesus loves them. Cheryl is a happy wife, devoted mom, caring daughter, and faithful friend. When she is not writing, she can be found exploring the mountains with her family, grabbing coffee with friends, capturing beauty with her camera, teaching elementary and middle school students, or cheering enthusiastically for those around her.
