A Simple Practice for a Sabbath Heart

I truly believe that a sabbath life — one that honors and trusts the Lord’s work by relinquishing my own one day out of seven — begins by cultivating a sabbath heart. Without my heart practicing daily moments of rest in His presence, it’s incredibly hard to make space for a whole day of rest in my week. It can be done, but it feels more legalistic and less like the gift it was intended to be.

Since Christmas break has ended, the demands on my time and attention have scattered my thoughts in a hundred different directions and I find myself rushing through days, resenting distractions, and tossing when I should be sleeping. I can’t live in that place, speeding around with my tank bouncing on empty, for long. I have to take moments to cease all the doing and just be. More than that, I have to remember Who is with me in those moments (and in all the full, hurried, chaotic moments, too). I have to call my soul back to Sabbath.

There’s one simple practice that creates the beauty of a heart at rest that I want to share with you today: noticing.

It sounds too good to be true, right? I almost skipped my walk this morning because I just wanted to start getting things done, but I didn’t. Instead, I went to my favorite garden and told the Lord that I needed more than just fresh air and movement today. I needed some quietness of soul. 

And then, I started noticing things.

I noticed the trees, barren of leaves but drooping under a load of golden flowers on each branch. 

I noticed the half-moon like a giant thumbprint in the sky.

I noticed the flap-flitter-flip-flap-flip of the swallows looping dance above me and the thrumming of a dove’s wings.

I noticed leaves on the ground churning under a lizard’s scurry and leaves in the trees quaking after a squirrel’s hurried leap.

And this, the most surprising of all: I noticed a spiderweb, suspended in delicate symmetry above me with a still-struggling mosquito and a spider, no bigger than the mosquito, approaching its breakfast. The spider bit, the thrashing stopped, and a quick blanket of web preserved the mosquito for later. I didn’t know whether to be awed or horrified by the moment, but somehow bearing witness to the created order felt holy.

I began to notice the people. Couples laughing, a lone exerciser by the lake swaying her hips in time to music only she could hear, a passerby seeking eye contact and returning my smile.

Then I noticed myself and the space I occupied in the garden. My shadow stretched long with the morning sun behind me and my heartbeat thudded as I strode up and down the stairs. Evidence that I am alive. I belong in this moment and this moment belongs to me.

And in all my noticing, behind every creature and petal and smile and heartbeat, He was there. The Ever-Present One.

I was simultaneously stilled and filled. It was exactly what I needed.

I wonder if you need a bit of Sabbath in your heart today, too. I’ll keep this post short and instead invite you to become a noticer with me. 

Wherever you are, whatever you’re doing, can you put your device aside for two minutes and invite the Lord to open your physical and spiritual senses to the gifts that are around you? 

What are five things that you see? Hear? Smell? Feel? Perhaps taste? (Bonus challenge: Be a poet. Describe the wonder of what you are noticing. Double bonus challenge: Post your poem in the comments! I feel like there should be a prize for this. How about if I feature my favorite poem in the next post I share? Let’s celebrate courageous and holy words together!)

Can you find three reminders of God’s presence and personal care for you?

What is going on in your own soul right now?

May you cultivate a sabbath heart that lingers in His presence every day.