Cottonwood First Baptist Church First Baptist Church

Paul is writing this letter to his friend and protégé, Timothy. Paul met Timothy and his family in a city called Lystra (Acts 16:1-3), this place right in the middle of what is now modern-day Turkey. Paul was going around starting new churches and raising up a large team of coworkers to accomplish this mission (hence the term, apostle). And Paul was impressed by Timothy’s devotion to Jesus, and so he mentored him and trained him to shepherd other churches. Timothy was, exactly as Paul describes him, “a true son in the faith.”

Now, later on, Paul hears about this group of leaders that had infiltrated the church Ephesus (a seaport town in the same region). They were spreading ideas about Jesus that were off the mark, and then leading people to follow him in some messed up ways. So Paul sends Timothy to confront these leaders and restore some order and refocus the church. The letter of 1 Timothy is a follow-up to see how things are going and to offer some wisdom on how to fulfill his mission, to lead the church, to train up new shepherds, and to always keep the main thing the main thing—that is, to be a church utterly and singularly conformed to the gospel.

Paul is writing this letter to his friend and protégé, Timothy. Paul met Timothy and his family in a city called Lystra (Acts 16:1-3), this place right in the middle of what is now modern-day Turkey. Paul was going around starting new churches and raising up a large team of coworkers to accomplish this mission (hence the term, apostle). And Paul was impressed by Timothy’s devotion to Jesus, and so he mentored him and trained him to shepherd other churches. Timothy was, exactly as Paul describes him, “a true son in the faith.”

Now, later on, Paul hears about this group of leaders that had infiltrated the church Ephesus (a seaport town in the same region). They were spreading ideas about Jesus that were off the mark, and then leading people to follow him in some messed up ways. So Paul sends Timothy to confront these leaders and restore some order and refocus the church. The letter of 1 Timothy is a follow-up to see how things are going and to offer some wisdom on how to fulfill his mission, to lead the church, to train up new shepherds, and to always keep the main thing the main thing—that is, to be a church utterly and singularly conformed to the gospel.

There’s a word in the Old Testament for something we really, truly need, something that God models for us, instills in us, offers us freely as a gift. It’s the word shabat, an action word (mind you) meaning to cease, to stop, to be absent, to come to an end, to perish, die, rest, and to celebrate. It’s a pretty diverse word in the Hebrew language, but essentially it is an active elimination of the human hustle. You can see  that the word gets harsh sometimes (perish, die, eliminate), and that’s usually defined that way when YHWH is the active agent, particularly in the prophets. It’s often when Israel is so distracted by other human pursuits, other definitions of success, or what Abraham Heschel refers to as “the conquest of space at the expense of time,” that God himself has to put an end to their plans, to destroy their hurriedness, to eliminate the distractions, and so restore a season rest, even if he must do so drastically. God’s intent to shabat is very important to him.

This action, this verb of ceasing and celebrating and resting, came to be known as a particular day, set aside just for human renewal and revitalization. It came to be known as Sabbath. And while we come to church on Sunday and many of us take off a day or two of working every week, but actually, conscientiously practicing the sacred art of Sabbath? Do we have a built-in pattern and practice of resting in the very presence of God the healer and redeemer? Or are we merely taking a break every so often because we are simply, utterly exhausted from all of our work? Is Sabbath an active resistance to the bondage of hurry and busyness, or a passive vegetative state we fall into when we have literally run ourselves empty?

What if the church—what if our church—practiced Sabbath, the sacred art of stopping, the way God always meant for us to? Would that change anything? Would that communicate anything to the rest of society? Would that profoundly, eternally, change the nature of our spiritual life and community?

One more question for you: would it hurt to try?

There’s a word in the Old Testament for something we really, truly need, something that God models for us, instills in us, offers us freely as a gift. It’s the word shabat, an action word (mind you) meaning to cease, to stop, to be absent, to come to an end, to perish, die, rest, and to celebrate. It’s a pretty diverse word in the Hebrew language, but essentially it is an active elimination of the human hustle. You can see  that the word gets harsh sometimes (perish, die, eliminate), and that’s usually defined that way when YHWH is the active agent, particularly in the prophets. It’s often when Israel is so distracted by other human pursuits, other definitions of success, or what Abraham Heschel refers to as “the conquest of space at the expense of time,” that God himself has to put an end to their plans, to destroy their hurriedness, to eliminate the distractions, and so restore a season rest, even if he must do so drastically. God’s intent to shabat is very important to him.

This action, this verb of ceasing and celebrating and resting, came to be known as a particular day, set aside just for human renewal and revitalization. It came to be known as Sabbath. And while we come to church on Sunday and many of us take off a day or two of working every week, but actually, conscientiously practicing the sacred art of Sabbath? Do we have a built-in pattern and practice of resting in the very presence of God the healer and redeemer? Or are we merely taking a break every so often because we are simply, utterly exhausted from all of our work? Is Sabbath an active resistance to the bondage of hurry and busyness, or a passive vegetative state we fall into when we have literally run ourselves empty?

What if the church—what if our church—practiced Sabbath, the sacred art of stopping, the way God always meant for us to? Would that change anything? Would that communicate anything to the rest of society? Would that profoundly, eternally, change the nature of our spiritual life and community?

One more question for you: would it hurt to try?

There’s a word in the Old Testament for something we really, truly need, something that God models for us, instills in us, offers us freely as a gift. It’s the word shabat, an action word (mind you) meaning to cease, to stop, to be absent, to come to an end, to perish, die, rest, and to celebrate. It’s a pretty diverse word in the Hebrew language, but essentially it is an active elimination of the human hustle. You can see  that the word gets harsh sometimes (perish, die, eliminate), and that’s usually defined that way when YHWH is the active agent, particularly in the prophets. It’s often when Israel is so distracted by other human pursuits, other definitions of success, or what Abraham Heschel refers to as “the conquest of space at the expense of time,” that God himself has to put an end to their plans, to destroy their hurriedness, to eliminate the distractions, and so restore a season rest, even if he must do so drastically. God’s intent to shabat is very important to him.

This action, this verb of ceasing and celebrating and resting, came to be known as a particular day, set aside just for human renewal and revitalization. It came to be known as Sabbath. And while we come to church on Sunday and many of us take off a day or two of working every week, but actually, conscientiously practicing the sacred art of Sabbath? Do we have a built-in pattern and practice of resting in the very presence of God the healer and redeemer? Or are we merely taking a break every so often because we are simply, utterly exhausted from all of our work? Is Sabbath an active resistance to the bondage of hurry and busyness, or a passive vegetative state we fall into when we have literally run ourselves empty?

What if the church—what if our church—practiced Sabbath, the sacred art of stopping, the way God always meant for us to? Would that change anything? Would that communicate anything to the rest of society? Would that profoundly, eternally, change the nature of our spiritual life and community?

One more question for you: would it hurt to try?

There’s a word in the Old Testament for something we really, truly need, something that God models for us, instills in us, offers us freely as a gift. It’s the word shabat, an action word (mind you) meaning to cease, to stop, to be absent, to come to an end, to perish, die, rest, and to celebrate. It’s a pretty diverse word in the Hebrew language, but essentially it is an active elimination of the human hustle. You can see  that the word gets harsh sometimes (perish, die, eliminate), and that’s usually defined that way when YHWH is the active agent, particularly in the prophets. It’s often when Israel is so distracted by other human pursuits, other definitions of success, or what Abraham Heschel refers to as “the conquest of space at the expense of time,” that God himself has to put an end to their plans, to destroy their hurriedness, to eliminate the distractions, and so restore a season rest, even if he must do so drastically. God’s intent to shabat is very important to him.

This action, this verb of ceasing and celebrating and resting, came to be known as a particular day, set aside just for human renewal and revitalization. It came to be known as Sabbath. And while we come to church on Sunday and many of us take off a day or two of working every week, but actually, conscientiously practicing the sacred art of Sabbath? Do we have a built-in pattern and practice of resting in the very presence of God the healer and redeemer? Or are we merely taking a break every so often because we are simply, utterly exhausted from all of our work? Is Sabbath an active resistance to the bondage of hurry and busyness, or a passive vegetative state we fall into when we have literally run ourselves empty?

What if the church—what if our church—practiced Sabbath, the sacred art of stopping, the way God always meant for us to? Would that change anything? Would that communicate anything to the rest of society? Would that profoundly, eternally, change the nature of our spiritual life and community?

One more question for you: would it hurt to try?