sabbath

Put Down the Duckie

Mark 2:23-3:6

One sabbath he was going through the grainfields; and as they made their way his disciples began to pluck heads of grain. The Pharisees said to him, “Look, why are they doing what is not lawful on the sabbath?” And he said to them, “Have you never read what David did when he and his companions were hungry and in need of food? He entered the house of God, when Abiathar was high priest, and ate the bread of the Presence,

which it is not lawful for any but the priests to eat, and he gave some to his companions.” Then he said to them, “The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath; so the Son of Man is lord even of the sabbath.”

Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. They watched him to see whether he would cure him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him. And he said to the man who had the withered hand, “Come forward.” Then he said to them, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?” But they were silent. He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, “Stretch out your hand.” He stretched it out, and his hand was restored.

The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.


The hardest assignment I ever had in seminary was to put down the duckie. To explain what that means, I’ll need a little help from Ernie and Hoots the Owl.

In seminary I took a class called Soil and Sabbath with Nate Stucky, professor of Old Testament and director of the Farminary, this magical place that combined small scale agriculture and theological education. At the first class, Nate had us pick up a duck and as I remember it, the duck, much like Ernie and his duck, represented the thing we clung to so tightly.

And for a bunch of young people at seminary, we held fervently to our identities as students, achievers, who wrote impressive papers, read lots of books, and would become great pastors and professors because of all that. The assignment that was so hard was this: put down your duck for at least six consecutive hours each week and during these six hours write down, tell someone, or otherwise recall a story of God’s saving action or provision. And while six hours may not sound like much, it was surprisingly difficult. After a few hours I would get antsy knowing there were always more pages to read, a study group to attend, or papers to work on. And it didn’t just affect me.

This practice of sabbath, of putting down the duck, was Katelyn’s favorite assignment. She loved the rhythm it enforced in our newly minted marriage and the fact that for six hours she didn’t have to hear about some boring book or theologian. I didn’t always keep my Sabbath. At midterms and finals, I carried my duck 24/7. And after the class, our sabbath [my sabbath] was never as intentional as it was that first semester.

This assignment, more than any other, showed me how my worth, how good of a pastor I would be, how I saw and understood myself, was wrapped up in what I produced, by how busy I was, and how well I did in my classes.Stopping, even for six hours, disrupted all of that. But that’s exactly what sabbath is supposed to do.

The commandment to observe the sabbath is listed in two places in the Bible. In Exodus, God spoke to Moses and said “Remember the sabbath, keep it holy” and gave this explanation as to why: “for in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea and all that is in them, but rested the 7th day; therefore the Lord blessed the sabbath day and consecrated it”. In short, do as God did. God rested from work so you should rest from work.

Deuteronomy, however, is a bit different. It’s the same commandment, but a different explanation. “Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day.” Here, the Israelites are invited to rest not to imitate God but to see what God has done for them and see who they truly are.

For 400 years, the Israelites were enslaved, forced to make bricks each and every day with no rest. Their life was consumed by their work, their worth was only found in how much they produced. Then after leaving Egypt, God says one day you won’t work or make anything. It was a radical reorientation reminding Israel that they are no longer slaves, their worth did not come from how many bricks they made, and their identity did not come from their work.

God had made them free and would provide for them, even when they didn’t work because they were God’s people, chosen and loved. Rest made them see this. And look how inclusive, how far reaching the sabbath invitation was: animals, servants, immigrants among them, all were extended the same rest, because no one and no thing should be forced to work their life away. Rest is a gift for all of creation.

Maybe like the Israelites, your identity is wrapped up in work, feeling like your worth comes from what you produce, how much money you make, or the title you carry. Maybe you're wrapped up in being the perfect parent or spouse, or weighing the right number on a scale. Who are you when the children move out, or you get divorced, or you retire, or your body can no longer do what it once could? What’s the duckie you can’t put down? Sabbath is a rhythm to help you see and grasp the identity you have as a beloved child of God made in the image of God.

This one day of rest shows us our value as a person is not found in what we do or how busy we are but in whose we are. It is a form of grace; and like all grace, it disrupts our lives and causes us to change how we see ourselves. And not only are we changed by sabbath but so too are our days, our families, even our communities.

It is a hard grace for us to receive, but there are practical ways to help establish a sabbath. Dorothy Bass advises avoiding three things: work, commerce, and worry. Working nonstop makes us our own God, thinking all we have is by what we’ve done. And how prideful to think the world rotates because of our work. Stopping, just for one day, gives space for us to reflect on all that God has done and all the ways God provides for us.

And we’ll find that when we have balance with work, we’ll encourage others to have that too.

As for commerce, buying and spending are wrapped up in work. As Bass notes, “commerce creates the conditions for work and often more work. When we pause buying and spending, we pause work for others also.”

And likely the hardest thing to not do is worry. If you aren’t working, then you are worrying about work, or what needs done around the house, or the family problem that needs to be addressed, or the upcoming election and latest headlines. While it is undoubtedly hard to cast away our worries completely, we can refrain from things that induce worry, radical things like having your phone by your side, reading the news, checking Facebook or your email, or pausing the house project.

This may sound restricting, oppressive even. But the intent is the opposite. Sabbath is a day made for you, as Jesus tells us, a day to be life giving and rejuvenating. A day where you are free to rest, celebrate, and feast. Walk, play, and pray. Love and be loved. Serve, study, and sing. And most importantly, free to worship and give thanks for the grace of God that is ours through Jesus. Every sabbath is a little easter celebrating that we need not work ourselves to death in order to save ourselves. Christ has done that for you. No matter how well you keep the sabbath, it does not get you to heaven. And neither does any amount of work you do or money you make.

So put down the duckie and remember the sabbath. If a whole day seems too much at first, try it for six hours. You might be surprised at how hard this is and how it changes not only your day, but your family’s day too.

Which is why sabbath isn’t meant to be done alone. Sabbath is done best in a community, a group of people willing to go against the culture of ceaseless consumption and production.

Sabbath is the grace of rest, helping us see that who we are cannot be reduced to the work we can or cannot do, and tells us that we are loved, you are loved simply because you are a child of God. Sabbath truly is grace with no strings attached.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.



Summer Synopsis

Well, this is it for a while. Next Sunday is my last Sunday with you and then my family and I step away for four months for a period of renewal leave; but today is my last sermon until the end of September. I wanted to take a little time this morning to explain what is going to happen this summer and why it is happening.

Much care, attention, and prayer has gone into designing a renewal experience over the summer that will enable you and I to engage with the creative arts and spirituality. We have a slate of artists lined up to come to Cross of Grace and lead you in this process.

You’ve already been given a taste of what’s to come through the recent adult forums: Rob Saler’s class on art appreciation and Tom Orr’s on poetry. But we officially kick off next Sunday when special guest Aaron Niequist will lead us in worship both in the morning as well as at a special service at 5pm. Aaron wrote an insightful book about his experience forming a faith community at the Willow Creek megachurch where he was a worship leader. This faith community, called “The Practice,” was designed around the principle that worship should be a springboard into daily discipleship. He created a worship format that included teaching about spiritual practices and then actually practicing them during worship.

Next Sunday morning Aaron Niequist will lead us in the spiritual practice of lectio divina (intentional and deliberate re-reading of scripture with an openness to revelation). At the 5pm worship he will introduce us to the Examen – a daily prayer of reflecting on the day’s events and what God might have been up to through them. I have spoken to many people who share in my excitement that he will be our guest and they often say, “How did you get him?” My answer is that I read his book and sent him an email in which I told him a little bit about what we’re up to here, I told him about my passion for spiritual practices that is being nurtured through my continuing education program, and told him about the summer’s focus on creativity and spirituality. It wasn’t a hard sell; he seemed genuinely excited from the beginning.

Over the summer look for additional ways to explore your creativity and spirituality. A fun and engaging book about the subject written by Rob Bell will be available to you. It’s called How to Be Here. Copies will be available for you to read, discuss, and share.

There will also be two arts workshops. On July 13 local artist Gary Schmitt will lead workshops on the art of felting. You will be able to create doves out of wool. I’m fascinated by the process and wish I could participate.

Through the month of August the church will look a little different as we will host an exhibit of artwork by acclaimed painter Kyle Ragsdale. Kyle works with the Harrison Center for the Arts in Indianapolis as well as Redeemer Presbyterian as their Coordinator of Liturgical Arts. Then in September he will lead a painting class that is open to the church and community.

I hope you will tend to the creative impulses that will call to you over the summer. When we return together at the end of September we will celebrate one another’s creativity and spiritual growth with an exhibit of our experiments in creativity. I would love to read your poetry, hear your music, view your oil paintings or doves sculpted out of wool, admire your woodwork projects, or whatever else you create of the summer. The evening will also include a potluck meal and a concert featuring our contemporary music minister, Kaitlyn Ferry.

Too often we lose sight of the importance of creative expression in our lives. If we are to grow spiritually, we must immerse ourselves in the things that reflect God. Given that God is a creator, we can grow in our connection to the divine by being creators, ourselves.

The arts are a centerpiece for my part of the renewal experience as well. Music is one of my spiritual languages, so I am looking forward to taking in a couple music festivals, singing at evensong services in historical English cathedrals, enjoying Broadway musicals, and also hand-crafting a guitar over the course of a couple weeks in Vancouver Island, British Columbia.

The renewal experience is about more than engaging in creative pursuits, though.

Someone recently asked me what I am most looking forward to regarding the upcoming renewal leave. Sure, there’s the travel, amazing food, quiet time to catch up on reading, and once-in-a-lifetime experiences that I am looking forward to enjoying; however, my answer was that I was looking forward to not being “Pastor Aaron” for a couple months.

Everyone who works faces the temptation to synchronize their identity with their vocation. Teachers start to think of themselves as teachers; CEOs start to think of themselves as bosses; doctors as doctors; farmers as farmers; factory workers as factory workers, and so on. A sense of call or vocation is important, but our jobs always fail us as a marker of identity. Anytime our understanding of ourselves (or others’ understanding of us) is dependent on what we do, we’re in dangerous territory. The truth followers of Christ lift up is that our true identity is as beloved image-bearers of the divine – “unceasing spiritual beings with an eternal destiny in God's glorious universe,” as Dallas Willard states.

Four months of intentional separateness from my vocation is an invitation to explore and lean into my true identity. I am not the sermons I preach, the pastoral care I show, the events I put on for youth, nor the teaching I offer; I am not what you think of me; and I am not the church I serve. I tell you, though, it’s hard to remember that. Much the same way that teachers likely find it hard to disentangle their identity from the academic success or failure of their students; or business owners struggle to disentangle their identity from the success or failure of their enterprise.

This summer I get to be dad, husband, a tourist, a guitar-builder, a worshipper, a friend, a son, and most importantly, an image-bearer of the divine whose worth is determined by God, not by what I do.

I want you to know that this summer is an incredible gift for my family and me; but also for you. Please make time this summer to reconnect with your own belovedness.

Pick up a paintbrush and reconnect with your belovedness.

Take a trip and reconnect with your belovedness.

Spend time with family and reconnect with your belovedness.

Practice a new spiritual discipline and reconnect with your belovedness.

Take a break from something, watch as life carries on without you, and reconnect with your belovedness.

Thank you for giving, being, and receiving this gift. Amen.