I stumbled upon a sabbath post recently written by a twenty-something Christian blogger. It made me smile because I saw myself in it so much. I remember that season really well. Finding time to press pause on life on the weekends. To choose to let the chores pile up, the laundry left unfolded, the fridge empty, and to stop almost everything.
My sabbath days were full of long walks, restful naps, uninterrupted time to journal and pray, and time away from electronics. My mind would be so empty from the normal tasks that God could fill it—dreams, ideas, and hopes would start to well up within me on the sabbath. I love this deep rest.
As a mom, sabbath looks very different. I didn’t get breaks in the way I used to. Since my son needed to be fed every two hours or so when he was little, I was constantly doing calculations for the kind of duties that don’t just magically stop on the sabbath.
I felt a little disappointed by our weekend rhythms as we adjusted to our new family life when we had our son. I wondered when I got to have time to myself in the way I used to. Where did this idea of sabbath that I had curated over years of learning to put down work for the sake of rest just to dive into the work of motherhood that never stopped fit in?
Then, I remembered an interesting essay I wrote in college about the sabbath. I took a one hour elective course at our Christian school with the topic being the sabbath. After doing countless hours of research on the sabbath the thing that had completely captivated my attention was this: Jesus almost exclusively healed people on the sabbath.
When reading the gospels, the battle between the hyper religious pharisees and Jesus over the sabbath is all over the place. And Jesus keeps healing people on the sabbath despite what they think he should or shouldn’t be doing. But what I think is really interesting about this is he healed more on the sabbath than any other day or time.
This wasn’t the exception—it was almost like it was his rule.
The religious leaders at the time saw this as Jesus breaking the sabbath. But in the often upside down world that Jesus brings us—he shows us that this healing, this work, was actually fulfilling the sabbath.
In early motherhood, I realized this felt like my sabbath days as a mom. Rest looks very different for me now. When I’m sick, when I’m tired, when I just want a day off—I cannot have one. My love and my care for my child cannot take a day off. So I pull myself out of bed when he cries in the middle of the night, I push my own eyes to stay open through exhaustion, and I put down my ideal rest for this new vision of rest—rest that is like Jesus’ rest.
Jesus does not take the Sabbath off. He doesn’t stop healing. He doesn’t stop caring. He doesn’t stop loving. He doesn’t say, “I’ll hear your prayer tomorrow.” I wonder if rest isn’t about stopping work. Maybe rest is about receiving renewal from God even while we care for others.
Jesus famously took time away to pray. He had his “self care” practices but now, I feel like they are similar to how I feel when my son is napping. I’m not fully “off duty” as a mom when my boy is asleep. I have the monitor with me. I think about him. I anticipate his next needs. I continue to care, to love. I’m ready for the moment he opens his eyes and has a need.
Now, I view the sabbath like this. My focus is finding small moments where I can invite God’s presence into my day. I mean really, really small moments. A tiny little breath prayer. A moment to repeat a scripture to myself. An acknowledgement of a gift from God.
This is my prayer for the weary, for the worn out, for the one who is begging for a break: may you find real rest not in stopping but in being held.
And when you feel like you never get a moment to let your guard down, to stop caring for just a tiny moment—remember this is the same love God offers you. He is alert, watchful, caring, loving, and he finds real rest without ever taking a day off.
