We are Dust and He is Rest
We have been talking of Sabbath at our dinner table and before, while I chop spinach and basil and saute the garlic. He is reading The Sabbath by Heschel and at church the sermon this week was on Psalm 50: The God who doesn't need anything from us. The rhythms of our home have yet to be established—let alone the rhythms of our marriage or our work or our lives. What does resting look like and can it look different for both of us and can we enter into one another's rest—even if it is not our natural home? He runs to rest. I write to rest. How then can we both be at ease with one another?
Heschel says, "If you work with your mind, sabbath with your hands, and if you work with your hands, sabbath with your mind." I adopt this phrase and wear it as a mantra. I chop the basil and the spinach, press my thumb and index finger testing a ripe tomato, check on the chicken twice. I rest with these rhythms, these constants.
The prophet said, "In repentance and rest is your salvation, and in quietness and trust is your strength." I turn that verse over in my mouth and heart, build my life upon it.
"Remember, remember, remember your maker."
"Remember, remember, remember you are dust."
It is work to remember and work to rest, this I know and you do too. No one can live in this world as we've made it and not have to work to rest. Remove notifications, turn off the phone, walk away from the planner, light candles at dinner and hold the hand of your husband and marvel at the gift of simply living. Rest.
“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” Matthew 11:28-30 The Message
We are little worshippers, you and me, worshipping at the altar of work and likes and performance and success and numbers and more of whatever it is that keeps us awake at night. Whatever it is, if it isn't Him, it isn't Him.
He and I haven't learned our sabbath rhythm yet, we don't know how to rest in the midst of all the new and all that seems forced and sporadic, but we walk with Him and work with Him and watch how He does it, remembering, remembering, remembering we are dust and He is rest.
