How can we possibly honor the Sabbath when we barely have time to breathe, let alone put major responsibilities on hold? Or, our boss is threatening termination if we don’t complete a project by a set time or a loved one is enduring a potentially catastrophic crisis and needs our help?
I’ve been there. Years ago, while working through the final stages of my first book release, I received an email on a Saturday night that contained substantial edits. The problem was two-fold. First, I needed to return the revised document quickly. Second, the next day was my typical Sabbath.
To explain, I began making Sundays my time to refuel decades prior, when I was a stay-at-home mom raising a little one. And I knew, if I didn’t intentionally set—and guard—a regular time to rest, I’d never take it. I also worried about the message this might send to my watching daughter. I didn’t want my behavior to model the increasing workaholic mindset perpetuated by the culture.
And so, I decided not to work on Sundays. As my house served as my “office,” this meant leaving dirty dishes in the sink overnight, walking past the growing mound of dirty laundry and refusing to do anything related to household chores.
That decision took intentionality and courage.
Oftentimes, entrusting our unfinished tasks to Jesus is the most courageous decision we’ll make each day.
Especially when that choice involves organizational leaders and financial risk.
Fast forward to my first book release. I was already anxious—about the book, my ability as a writer, meeting my deadline and how others might perceive my work once released.
In other words, I wanted to create the best product possible. This felt like a reflection of me and a way to respect my publisher.
I was forced to choose between two good and honorable options. Would I honor the commitment I felt I’d made to the Lord? Or, would I elevate my editor’s concerns and prioritize the book above my regular day of rest?
At this point, I can sense some of you saying, “That sounds legalistic! It was only one day!”
This was an invitation to obedience. I knew, in that season, that the Lord was asking me to guard my Sabbath and entrust the outcome to Him.
Please don’t mishear me. I’m not presenting this as a necessary tenet of Christianity. God leads each of us uniquely, considering our limitations and His long-term plans for us.
In my situation, He clearly asked me not to work on my manuscript on the day on which I’d already committed to rest. So I did.
The result?
Not long after the book—my debut novel!—released, I received an email from a reader listing every typo she discovered, along with page numbers.
All 31.
I was mortified and angry at God. “I was trying to obey You, and this is what happened? Why? Why did You allow this?!”
His response: Who are you serving?
That sliced straight through my pride, fueled by my insecurity. This shifted my perspective off self-protection and onto submission to Christ.
If I truly was seeking to honor Him in all I did, then those typos weren’t my concern. He wanted me to relinquish the entire situation, and whatever came from it, to Him.
He remained in control, even when the circumstances felt … coincidental and problematic.
In this week’s Faith Over Fear podcast episode, my guest, Dr. Tara Dew, reiterated this truth: honoring the Sabbath is a profound act of trust. Regarding this, she said, “Friends, think back throughout Scripture. God has been trying to teach his people to depend on him every day, That’s why the Israelites got manna every morning that they had to collect, and they couldn’t collect more than what they could use that day because it would go bad.”
The Lord gives us everything we need, time and resources included, to do all that He asks—according to His brilliant and strategic wisdom. He doesn’t, however, give us everything we need to accomplish those divine assignments, and a slew of other tasks He never told us to pursue.
And, as I discovered with my debut novel and numerous situations since, my ability to relinquish control of those things He’s placed in my hands highlights the depth of my faith. Do I truly believe He’s leading me according to His hope-filled plans for me? Or do I suspect He’s holding out on me or that following Him in this area will lead to sorrow and loss?
To which you might say, “But you did experience loss, didn’t you?”
While it’s true, the final product of that book wasn’t what I’d hoped, the lesson God taught me through it served me well. That situation didn’t negatively affect my career, as I’d feared. Instead, it fortified the foundation upon which my calling stood.
That has served me far better than one book, project or task ever could.
How does this hit you in your present season? Do you incorporate some type of rest into your regular schedule, or does the thought evoke anxiety? Are you operating from a place of fear or Spirit-led wisdom? And if the former, what is one obedient step Christ might want you to take to better align your heart with His?
