Thou, Lord, hast made us for Thyself and our heart is restless until it finds rest in Thee. – St. Augustine
As a deer longs for flowing streams, so my soul longs for you, O God. – Psalm 42 : 1
“If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”
― C.S. Lewis
Sabbath found me this week. Surrender was my only choice. In all my doing I sometimes forget, sabbath finds me. It’s how I’m taken apart and put back together again by a God who knows well the rebuilding and reshaping work of creation.
In any given week I’ve poured and spent, I’ve filled and consumed. I’ve sustained and nourished. But life demands a refilling. Life reminds me to slow down – to honor my belief in the cycle of a bud, to surrender to the truth of the maze – to live free we must rest. Life demands I still myself long enough to silence any semblance of chaos, to reconnect with His rhythm, remember the altar.
These days, I remember my altar on the bridle path outside the reservoir in Central Park, just north of 96th Street, when my run is complete. Or on the hill at 110th Street and Morningside Drive, as I make my way home from school – the downward slope is a familiar hallmark for the half way spot between seminary and home. And too, the sweet pockets of time filled with love from my lovelies. Children are living tabernacles of grace – the very best reminder of everything holy.
Sabbath is the healing work of reflection. A silent meditation on gratitude. The stuff that brings me back to myself – the God centering work of readying my soul for this thing called life – and I can’t escape it.
Sabbath will find you.
In the sliver of time between the pick up or drop off, the car pool or bus ride – may He find you. In the measured movement that marks a step, when you write your to-do list or don’t list, in the eternity called a moment, between the question and answer – may you find your way – toward an unavoidable, inescapable Sabbath.