The memories of the hours and days following my mom’s death in January of 2000 are a big blur of soul-groaning. I carried a heavy weight, a dark and lonely ache. So lonely. I sensed that words like grief, sorrow, and mourning weren’t big enough to describe what I felt in the pit of my being. I didn’t know how I would have the strength to carry on with my daily tasks. I had a difficult time grasping and believing in the sovereignty of God.
Although death is a known part of life, we were clearly made to live. We can’t help but try to make sense of the brokenness of death. Loss unravels us. If you’ve ever lost a loved one, you know what I mean.
During this strange time in history, even if we don’t personally know anyone who has died of COVID-19, I believe we are all experiencing a collective sense of loss and mourning. We are restless, and wary of the unknown. We wonder, what will tomorrow bring? Our words aren’t big enough to describe what we feel in the pits of our souls.
With plenty of meat in the freezer, and toilet paper in the bathroom, and no littles to take care of, this pandemic isn’t creating too much havoc on my personal life. I’m able to read more and write without interruptions. The weather is allowing me to go out for walks and runs; and the internet keeps me informed and entertained with funny memes. The introvert in me feels right at home. The highly empathetic spirit in me, however, feels the heavy weight that others carry: a similar dark and lonely ache reminiscent of those weeks following my mom’s death. I wonder, how will they—how will you—have the strength to carry on? I am here with them, with you, grieving, soul-groaning, also trying to make sense of it all.
Our lives have been disrupted. We crave human contact and normal rhythms. We long for things as simple as shopping on a whim, working out at the gym, or meeting a friend for lunch. We are grieving our lost jobs and income and mourning our disappointments.
Doesn’t it seem appropriate that this world crisis and all these losses coincidently descended upon us during the Lenten season?
Perhaps you are thinking along the same lines as Andy Crouch when he tweeted, “Honestly hadn’t planned on giving up quite this much for Lent.”
Although I agree, I also think that the timing provides an opportunity to reflect on how we experience loss. Jesus’ death and resurrection can help us reframe this abrupt encounter with uncertainty and a “death,” of sorts, of life as we know it.
As I meditated on a passage in Luke last week, I came upon a verse that grabbed me quick and hard and would not let me go:
“The women who had come with him from Galilee followed and saw the tomb and how his body was laid. Then they returned and prepared spices and ointments. On the Sabbath they rested according to the commandment” (Luke 23:55-56).
On the Sabbath, they rested.
Wouldn’t you agree that in the midst of troubles, anxiety, loss, and despair, rest is the hardest thing to come by?
I believe these women—very devout followers of Jesus—have a valuable lesson to teach us about mourning and rest. After losing their Messiah and Savior, they must have been devastated, uncertain, and confused. Yet, in the midst of their grief, they obeyed. Even in deep despair, they chose to maintain the sacredness of Sabbath rest.
Why?
Let’s take a deeper look into Sabbath, and see what this practice would have meant for these followers of Christ, and what it can mean for us today.
Just days after God miraculously rescued Israel out of the grip of Egyptian slavery, the Israelites began to grumble about their hunger and thirst. They suddenly felt insecure, uncertain, and generally dissatisfied with their newfound inconvenient life. (Does this sound familiar?) In response, God provided. He provided a unique kind of food for them called manna. He instructed Israel where to find it and how to collect it. They were given manna every day for six days. On the sixth day, they were to gather a double portion so they would have enough for the following day, because on the seventh day they wouldn’t have any manna to collect. On that day, there would be no work, no man-made effort, only rest and God-sufficiency. Even before giving them the Sabbath command at Mount Sinai, here, in the desert, He was already teaching them a pattern, a rhythm of work and rest.
Once Israel reached Sinai, God made a covenant with them. We read in Exodus 20:8-11,
Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor, and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God. On it you shall not do any work, you, or your son, or your daughter, your male servant, or your female servant, or your livestock, or the sojourner who is within your gates. For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, and rested on the seventh day. Therefore the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and made it holy.
The women mentioned in Luke 23 who prepared the spices and ointment for Jesus’ burial would have spent a lifetime practicing this Sabbath commandment, a deeply ingrained ritual that would have taught them about work and rest and God’s sufficiency.
Here are two thoughts on Sabbath that I pray may be helpful for us to think about today as we face our own Good Friday, our own deaths to bear, and our own uncertainties to process.
1. During Sabbath rest, we emulate God and experience the wholeness of Eden.
The Sabbath commandment was rooted in Creation. Its rhythm imitated the same cadence of the creation account. Six days of work, one day of rest. In the desert, and for all the following generations, Israel was to imitate God’s rest, remembering His mighty work of creation which culminated on the seventh day as He and His creation took up their places of reigning, ruling, and subduing. Genesis 2:2 tells us, “And on the seventh day God finished His work that He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work that He had done.” In Hebrew, the word for “rested” in verse 2 could be translated “Sabbath-ed.” The word Sabbath means to stop as well as rest. God stopped from all His work, not because He was tired, but because He was done; He was satisfied in His work. His good world was finished and complete.
Obeying the Sabbath command served as a reminder of the original seventh day—re-living and re-experiencing His gifts and sufficiency. Food was sufficient. God’s presence was sufficient. His whole creation was sufficient.
That sufficiency is what the women chose to honor on that lonely, uncertain Saturday.
But we know now what the women did not know then. So, during our own times of loss and during these times of pandemic uncertainty, we too can choose to seek comfort in Sabbath. We can practice imitating God and rest in His sufficiency through the complete work of Jesus Christ. Remember Christ’s own words as he breathed His last: “It is finished.” And rest knowing that on that cross, “He finished the work that He had done.” We can now rest in the satisfied work of Christ.
2. During Sabbath rest, we experience God’s provision.
Another reason for the Sabbath ritual was to remind the people of Israel of God’s provision during their 40 years of wilderness wandering.
Exodus 20:10 says, “but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord your God,” meaning the day belongs to Him, not us. It reminded them, as it does us now, that everything that we have, including our possessions, food, and time, belong to Him. He is the source of all that is good, and we are completely dependent on Him.
When they stopped on that seventh day, they were forced to wait as they enjoyed His provision. They looked ahead, trusting that new manna would fall once again on the eighth day.
At the heart of Sabbath is trust.
Little did the women visiting the tomb know that as they obediently trusted and rested in God’s provision, they were actually resting in the finished work of Christ. He had accomplished new creation through His death.
During these uncertain times, as we collectively mourn and grieve the loss of jobs, financial stability, and precious lives, I pray that we too can wait in faith. I pray that we can find Sabbath rest and God-sufficiency even when our circumstances tempt us to do the opposite. Remember that even though The Bread of Life ceased on that Good Friday, He came back once again on that faithful eighth (first) day. He is our hope. He is our provider.
Lord, during this time of mourning and grief, we wait on you, in faith, in the satisfied work and provision of The Bread of life.