I will also give that person a white stone with

a new name written on it,

known only to the one who receives it. 

Revelations 2v17 niv

And you will be given a new name by the LORD's own mouth. 

Isaiah 62v2 nlt

Yesterday was our Sabbath— the day Phil and I stop all work and reflect on God's goodness... all day long. A day set aside specifically to delight.

Sabbath is a day to place our lists and our pressures, our unsolved problems and our stressors in God's hands.  To just be with Him in gratitude and wonder. To rest.  To remember.

To remember whose we are.

We who have chosen to believe in Jesus belong to Him. He gives us His name and He knows us by name. And someday we will get a new name— one that He will place on each of us like a crown of knowing. Not just any name, but a name that signifies who we really are.

I can imagine Him presenting you with your name as all of us watch in wonder.

This is my child, (your new name here).  I love this one dearly. Welcome her home!

And then we’ll all crowd around you in unfiltered delight! I think maybe we’ll join hands and form a circle of dance around you, kicking up our feet in spontaneous hilarity.

You’ll be laughing and blushing and beaming with happiness.

For each of you who feel harried and hurt today, may you take just a moment to dream about that Day.

Imagine yourself with Him, tucked under His arm. Imagine how much all of us, each of us— millions of us--will love you. We’ll be proud of you. We’ll see you, not with eyes of judgment, but eyes of understanding and admiration.

We’ll see your worth.

From a heart delighting in a love that I can hardly grasp,

Diane

P.S. My list of names to bring on my walking, praying treks through these Pacific Northwest storms is growing. I am having a increasing sense of the importance of these soggy walks. If you’d like to add your name please tell me in the comments.

  This day has been chock full of delight. Overflowing with one thing— rest. Sweet, luxurious, delight filled rest.

The delight of this day did not happen because my list is all crossed off, nor due to an accidental twist of fate. In fact, unfinished chores are tucked behind closet doors and relegated to a tidy pile on my desk.

Today is our Sabbath.

I know, I know, it’s Friday. And Sabbath is traditionally either on Saturday (for Jewish observers) or Sunday (for Christians). Or not at all.

For us, the ancient practice of Sabbath is brand new. Pastors work harder and longer on Sunday than on any other day of the week. And as two people who came to faith during the anti-traditional days of the Jesus Movement of the ‘70’s, we grew into our faith believing that the Sabbath was a law that didn’t apply to us. Somehow we’d been taught that of all the Ten Commandments, that was the one we were allowed to skip.

Fast forward to this day.

I woke up early as I always do, but instead of getting out of bed, I allowed myself to burrow under the down comforter for another hour.

It’s Sabbath-- bliss.

When I finally felt wide awake and ready to face the cold, I sauntered into the kitchen, switching on all the sparkling strings of lights, and made tea. I wrapped myself in a thick shawl and carried my tea tray out to my cabin where I spent as long as I wanted curled up in my big white chair reading and listening and writing and learning.

It’s Sabbath— bliss.

No rush. No hurry. No chores or work or lists or worries.

By late morning we were getting antsy to do something so we drove a couple of miles to a delightful Scandinavian café where we relished rich coffee and baked eggs with a griddle cake topped with linden berries and crème fraiche.

It’s Sabbath— bliss.

We talked, we laughed, we planned Comer Christmas surprises, we caught up on conversations cut short during the work week. By mid-afternoon all that delightful resting made us sleepy so Phil dozed in his chair by the fire while I read a really good story. It’s Sabbath— bliss. 

We went on a walk just as the sun dipped below the horizon, rambling in our dark, forested neighborhood past cottages brightened by Christmas lights. The night is cold and wintery, mysterious and quiet. Stars in the sky reminding us of that first Christmas when Shepherds first heard the news we celebrate.

Now we’re rummaging around the kitchen heating up left overs, getting ready to watch a Christmas movie. Cinnamon candles lend softness to the inside of our cozy home.

For one whole day we have stopped. We have rested. We have worshipped and consciously chosen not to indulge in worry or work or anything that might take away the wonder of this day.

It’s Sabbath. One day in seven for worship and for rest. For bliss.

From a heart quieted by the delight of Sabbath,

Diane

P.S. Have you yet responded to the invitation to Sabbath? If you want to know more, I highly recommend my son’s book, Garden City: Work, Rest, and the Art of Being Human. He details his family’s Sabbath rhythm as well as unpacking what the Scriptures teach.

 (source)

God has told his people, “Here is a place of rest; let the weary rest here. This is a place of quiet rest.”

Isaiah 28:12 

Remember the Sabbath…

Exodus 20:18

Fog wraps the morning in magic.  Shimmering like a woman’s gown, sheer as finest silk, it hides the world beyond the trees.

And I sit wrapped in warmth, watching the Artist create. Soaking in His beauty, soul filling with wonder.

What was it I was worried about?

All those frettings seem silly now. Petty, unimportant.

So what if I don’t get it done? Isn’t this more important? This watching, waiting, listening?

And so again this morning He speaks to me.

Hush, Di, I’m working. This is My world, not yours.

Just watch a while.

Listen in the silence.

Learn.

And so I choose rest today instead of striving, peace instead of churning, less instead of more.

I choose to notice God today. All day.

To stop all my fussing and just make space for Him in this cluttered soul of mine.To push aside the messiness of my needing to do more and allow my body and my mind and my imagination to simply stroll today.

I’ll walk through His woods, crunch leaves underfoot, breathe deeply, notice the faintest fragrance He leaves behind.

 I’ll sabbath.

From a heart needing rest,

Diane

repost: december 2013