Dallas Willard has become one of my favorite writers in the last few years.  While I still haven’t made it through “The Divine Consipiracy” (bet I’ve started that book eight times); “Renovation of the Heart” and “The Great Omission” have formed much of my thinking about discipleship.

ONE chapter in TGO has haunted me for three years.  Notes in the margins of my copy show that I’ve read it four times including a reading on Easter Sunday 2007 following a Lent season in which I fasted one day a week and prayed specifically for direction regarding a new job.  The chapter, “The Key to the Keys of the Kingdom” (available online on Dallas’ website).  I’ll include a few quotes here, but if you can relate at all with the busyness and life-pace issues I’ve been writing about, you really should read his entire article.

The Problem Willard identifies is a trend he sees in which those in “full time Christian service” are too pressured, too stressed by a great “need to achieve.”  It is their personal and spiritual life that falters in this quest.  Invariably, Willard concludes, “he comes to feel strongly that the circumstances in which he works are in conflict with the very goals for which he entered his profession in the first place.  Heightened frustration and disappointment go hand in hand with decreasing strength, peace, and joy.” (The Great Omission, 33)

The Key that Willard is referring to is (you guessed it) “Sabbath.”  In line with Mark Buchanan’s thoughts I wrote about a few days ago,  Dallas presents Sabbath as an antidote to my overestimation of my importance, an unhealthy dependence on me and my efforts instead of seeing and depending on God.

Sabbath is a way of life. (Heb. 4:3 & 9-11) It sets us free from bondage to our own efforts. Only in this way can we come to the power and joy of a radiant life in ministry, a blessing to all we touch. And yet Sabbath is almost totally absent from the existence of contemporary Christians and their ministers.

What is Sabbath? Biblically, it is a day, once a week, when we do no work. “Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a sabbath of the Lord your God; in it you shall not do any work.” (Ex 20:9-10) It was also a year, once every seven years, when God’s covenant people not sow seed, prune vines or store up harvest. (Lev. 25:4-7) And to the question, “How are we going to eat in the seventh year?” God replied: “I will so order My blessing for you in the sixth year that it will bring forth the crop for three years.” (vs. 21) (p. 34-35)

Willard recommends three spiritual practices for making Sabbath real in the midst of our life.  They are solitude, silence, and fasting.  I plan to write about the nuts and bolts of practicing the sabbath before these 40 days are over, so I won’t get into what those look like right here; but the payoff he describes is nothing short of inspiring:

• “Accept the grace of doing nothing.” (36)
• “Solitude well practiced will break the power of busyness, haste, isolation, and loneliness.” (36)
• “Silence allows the reality of God to stand in the midst of your life.” (36)
• “We are not safe and rich in talk and companionship unless our solus are strong in solitude and silence.” (37)
• “Oddly, through intentional times of practicing spiritual disciplines, my walk with Jesus has become more spontaneous.” (37)
• “I came back from the fast with a clearer sense of purpose and a renewed sense of power in my ministry” (38)
• We do not have to live under the thumb of our circumstances… putting time-tested, biblical disciplines for the spiritual life into sensible practice will soon lead us into an abundance of the life that is eternal in quality and power.” (39)

On a personal note, I’m feeling a bit conflicted about my Lent emphasis on “rest.” On the one hand, it has been a good season of spiritual challenge and renewed focus.  On the other hand it has left me more frustrated and dissatisfied with life and work.  You know how you can grow up enjoying a particular food (like steak or lasagna) and then one day you have a remarkably better version of that same food and you no longer enjoy the original as much?  Well, it’s kinda like that.  Studying sabbath has left me longing for a better steak, dissatisfied with my current lasagna.

Lord, show me where I should start…

Metanoia,
Aaron

By my count, this is Day 26 of Lent.  As you may already know, I have made the seemingly safe commitment to “think about rest” during these days.  Specifically, I determined that this process of thinking would look like this (with some progress updates):

• I’d use this blog to share some thoughts about topics like work, rest, sabbath, and pace (So far, I’m averaging a post every 5 days or so, approximately 30,000 times more frequently than I usually do).
• read Mark Buchanan’s “The Rest of God” (I’m trying to read this devotionally, only about a third of the way through, but finding it RICH and RELEVANT to my questions.  I’ll share a few new reflections below).
• review 3 or 4 other books and articles I’ve collected on this topic in the last couple of years. (Reread a chapter from Dallas Willard’s “The Great Ommission” that has haunted me for the past three years, I’m working on a post with some of Willard’s thoughts to post later this week.)
• be intentional to get enough sleep each night (goal: in bed by 11, at least 6.5 hours a night). (This has not been consistent - sleep is turning out to be a major symptom of my distress. Often my worry keeps me up at night or my apathy keeps me in bed in the morning.  I’m regularly getting less than 5 hours a night… this goal needs greater attention in the next two weeks.)
• take a “tithe” of these 40 days off - 4 days may not seem like a lot, but this is spring at Grace College. (I’ve taken one actual day off, I’m scheduled to take one full and two half days off this week… need to carve out at least one more.)
• I’m not sure how this fits, but traditionally Lent has included abstaining from something for this brief time.  I’ve decided to cut out all food after supper and all coffee after lunch. (This has been great.  I have identified food and caffeine my favorite vices.  Cutting these out has made me feel healthier, sleep better, and - beyond all of that - has served as a reminder of my commitment.)

In the fourth chapter of Buchanan’s book, he continues to refine our thinking about Sabbath by contrasting sleep and rest.  Sleep is essential, he acknowledges; in fact, when you try to deny yourself sleep, it will eventually catch up with you until you succumb to it.  Not so with Sabbath.  Sabbath is much more obliging when rebuffed - in the author’s words, “Resisted, it backs off. Spurned, it flees.  It’s easy to skirt or defy Sabbath.” (Rest of God, p 61)  When we neglect Sabbath it doesn’t come chasing us like sleep.  Sabbath steps aside like a gentleman and waits for us.

Thus we can live for years at a breakneck pace that appears productive but is deeply exhausting.  We feel unfulfilled and we attempt to fill the void with more recreation, longer hours, a new strategy, or self-justifying complaints.  What we need is to stop.  We need stillness.

Perhaps worse than the exhaustion, restlessness, and aggravation… worse than the lack of rest, is the untruth busyness allows us to believe.

“The worst hallucination busyness conjures is the conviction that I am God.  All depends on me. How will the right things hapen at the right time if I’m not pushing and pulling and watching and worrying?” (p. 61)

After some gut-level introspection I realized how true that is.  Way too often I overestimate my importance way too much.  I forget who is in control, I put unnecessary pressure on my efforts.  I get a type of “high” from believing everyone is depending on me for everything.  And, to be honest, I believe this because I lack confidence and trust in God.

And this is where I need some serious change in my thinking.

Essentially he presents the idea that if God isn’t big enough to handle everything, then we all need to work a whole lot harder.  ”Either God is good and in control, or it all depends on you.” (p. 63).  Surprise surprise, my busyness is a theological problem.  I am living in a way that is inconsistent with my beliefs about God.  I’m a hypocrite.

Now for some thoughts to begin to correct this thinking:

• The Jewish Sabbath begins in the evening - essentially, it begins with going to bed, with sleep.  Buchanan presents sleep as an act of faith, a sign of vulnerability, a statement of resignation.  Merely going to bed with work undone, with problems unsolved, with concerns unanswered is a spiritual discipline - trust that God is in control.
• David, the psalmist, gives a lot of lyrics to the idea of trusting God - Psalm 62 is a great example.  ”My soul finds rest in God alone… he alone is my rock and salvation (v. 1).  David’s life wasn’t easy or restful, his words were likely reminders to keep trust in perspective.
• Paul, the apostle and frequent prisoner, gives a practical example of keeping sabbath in the midst of crisis in Acts 16.  This is where Paul and Silas are imprisoned - and miraculously freed - while spending the night worshiping and preaching (practicing Sabbath) when they could have been complaining or worrying.  The interesting thing here is how God uses this experience to work things out in ways they never could have dreamed had they taken matters into their own hands.
• The key for putting God in his rightful place - as God - is having a spirit and posture of thankfulness.  “You cannot practice thankfulness on a biblical scale without its altering the way you see… Inherent in a life of thanksgiving is an ongoing discovery of God’s sufficiency, his generosity, his fatherly affection and warrior protection.” (p. 67-68)

Lord, bring my beliefs and action into alignment… gift me with a thankful heart and trust-filled sleep…

Metanoia,
Aaron

One of the more significant happenings since my last post was the death of a former professor and administrator at the school I work. Doctor/Pastor Dave Plaster passed last weekend after an unexpected and brief illness.  Over the last two years of his life, he returned to local church ministry and was mostly away from Grace College.

While I was never one of the many young men (especially future pastors) that he individually mentored (sometimes called the “Plasterites”) I learned under him in at least 4 classes, admired his rare combination of intellect and heart, and considered him a friend.  And I, like so many others, have stories of his impact on my life.  Specifically, he helped me find a way to graduate when I thought it impossible, he encouraged me to marry the woman who is now my wife, and he advised me to stay on at Grace College when I decided to resign as RD.  In reflecting on his life and listening to stories of his impact this past month:

• Very appreciative of all I learned in his theology and church history courses - I’m convinced that I would hate those two areas of study with less of a teacher.
• I always saw him as an energetic and straight shooting person - he was easily one of the busiest people at Grace.  At the memorial service, his executive pastor described him as “busy but interruptible.”  As a fellow busy-man, I long for the same to be said of me.
• He was brilliant - his mind could have earned him accolades in many different fields, but more important than brilliant, he was focused.  He understood and pursued his calling - to lead the church and develop emerging church leaders.
• He loved and served his family well.  His son Rob shared that their family never felt neglected by their father’s many other responsibilities.  He said that proved how big his dad’s heart was - that he could love so many people and still love his family first.
• He valued time with people -mentoring, usually one on one.  I relate with that passion, and yet in recent years, I’ve done it less, and made is less of a priority.

I pray the example of godly men like Dave Plaster will change the way I live, learn, and serve as an educator, father, and leader.

Metanoia,
Aaron

I can be quite the whiner.

You know it’s true… looking back through my recent posts - read them doing your best impression of a three year old and you’ll hear it - Aaron’s pity party. Sadly, it’s a party I’ve been throwing for most of the last 3 years… see?

I’m a blamer… discontent in my life pace, circumstances, workload, and spiritual zeal - I boldly… complain on my blog and try to think my way through it.  And it doesn’t work.

So, in my thinking I’ve came to a minor epiphany…  life is out of control.

Obvious, I know… but, I tend to miss the obvious when I’m this busy and this self absorbed.

I have a love/hate relationship with control.  I have always prided myself in my patience and flexibility - living life in a “holding my plans with an open hand” manner.  I see unmanipulated life circumstances as a sign of God’s will.  I appreciate meekness over passion.  And I generally take a “wait and see” approach to decisions.  I’ve judged others as “control freaks” for being conscientious, deliberate, or aggressive.  I desire to lead and “challenge the process” but in a kinder, gentler way.  I acquiesce… a lot.

I’m not supposed to be in control of my life -God is, right?  My “ah ha” lately is that neither God nor I is currently in control of this life.  I’ve delegated control to every single person in my life: students I serve at Grace, my co-workers, supervisors, family members… pretty much anyone who asks (’cause I can’t say “no” to anyone except Lowe’s employees).

My new goal is to be more proactive, less whiney - to take back some of the control.  Then, I can actually give control over to God as a direct act of worship. Free will restored and applied.

Yup.  That’s my goal.  Now to figure out HOW to do this, because it’s going to take some courage that I’ve seldom demonstrated in the past.

Lord, help me put faith and action to these learnings…

Metanoia,
Aaron

One of the largest obstacles to true Sabbath Keeping is leisure. (Rest of God, 35)

It appears I don’t rest well.  Instead of retreating to a time of sacred Sabbath, I usually spend my non-working time in one of two ways:

1. I maintain my pace (break-neck-busy) doing yardwork, shopping, home repair, and errands - stuff I don’t have time or energy for during “normal” times.  I stay locked into full-achievement gear.
2. I shut down.  This might look like a weekend of Hulu and movies, or an escape into a novel (I can’t put a book down once I start), or a trip to visit friends or family… it might just be an evening of mindless Facebook stalking or blog ingesting.  Vacating at its finest.

Neither is rest.  Neither is refreshing.  Neither gives me focus or perspective.  Neither feeds my soul.  One leaves me more exhausted than I was when I stopped working.  The other leaves me feeling guilty and reacquaints me with my stress when I check back in.

Don’t misunderstand what I am saying.  I NEED days like these - they are a part of a healthy rhythm of life.  There can be something quite satisfying about a day of working on my “honey do” list.  It’s good to get away from home to see loved ones and have some “alone time” from the mundane and familiar.  It can be life giving to lose yourself in a filmmakers storytelling or the pages of good book.  These things are not sin.

But they are also not Sabbath.  Not entirely.  And that’s where my thinking needs to shift.

What is sabbath?  Not entirely sure I’ve grasped that yet.  I’m only 40 pages into Buchanan’s book

Lent Update

We’re over a week into Lent and I’m feeling pretty good about the experience.  Here were my commitments:

• intentionally reflect on the pace of my life as it relates to work, rest, and busyness (I’ve done a TON of this - mostly to my great disappointment in myself.  Some of this processing I’ve done through this blog, and I’m actually fairly proud of my progress there - 4 posts in just over a week nearly matches my total for all of last year!)
• read Buchanan’s “The Rest of God” and other readings about Sabbath (2 chapters into Buchanan - FULLY enjoying.  Looking to reread a couple of chapters in Willard’s “The Great Omission” sometime soon.  There was a chapter about Sabbath there that was so convicting to me two years ago I haven’t been able to touch it - or finish it - since.  Am I really ready to take this topic seriously???  Do I have a choice?)
• take at least 4 days off before Easter (Took yesterday off - a Thursday.  It was a mixed blessing - not necessarily a Sabbath - I don’t think… but good to get away from the office and be with family most of the day, and a friend for breakfast. I’ve asked off two more days, still need to find a date for the fourth.)
• get more sleep (at least 6.5 hours, generally in bed by 11 and up by 6).  (I’m not doing stellar here.  Averaging 6 hours, but very inconsistent sleep/wake times.)
• no caffeine after lunch and no food after supper. (boo-yah, grandma!  I’ve done well in this “micro-fast” and finding it a great reminder of the “sacredness” of Lent.  Every time I grab a water instead of a Diet Coke or say “no” to a late night snack, I’m reminded of these commitments.

So, I’m 3.5 days into my journey of thinking about rest - my commitment for Lent this year.  To review, I’ve decided to:

• intentionally reflect on the pace of my life as it relates to work, rest, and busyness
• read Buchanan’s “The Rest of God” and other readings about Sabbath
• take at least 4 days off before Easter
• get more sleep (at least 6.5 hours, generally in bed by 11 and up by 6)
• no caffeine after lunch and no food after supper

The harder I worked, the less I accomplished… My days were intricately fitted together like the old game of of Mousetrap, every piece precariously connected to every other, the whole thing needing to work together foe it to work at all.  But there was little fruit and stunted fruit… Here’s a secret: for all my busyness, I was increasingly slothful.  I could wile away hours at a time in a masquerade of working, a pantomime of toil - fiddling  about on the computer, leafing through old magazines, chatting up people in the hallways. But I was squandering time, not redeeming it.  And whenever I stepped out for a vacation, I did just that: vacated, evacuated, spilled myself empty…  The inmost places suffered most.  I was losing perspective.  (The Rest of God, 1-2)

Any deep change in how we live begins with a deep change in how we think.  The biblical word for this is repentance - in Greek, metanoia, a change of mind. (The Rest of God, 4-5)

I am tired.

Not falling asleep in class tired (trust me, I’ve experienced that numerous times), or out of breath tired. it’s not exactly sick-and-tired.  I’m not necessarily upset about this, in fact, if I’m being honest, I actually enjoy it sometimes.  It’s the tired you get when you continuously engage in a tiresome schedule and run at a tiring pace.  It’s a work + family + friends + church + house tired.

It’s a too busy for rest tired.

And it’s becoming a problem.

I’m not experiencing a “tired crisis” of any specific kind.  I’m relatively healthy, my family is relatively supportive and happy, my relationships are okay - maybe not great, but okay, and my walk with God seems fairly close.  But something tells me that this “tired” isn’t okay.

Living tired isn’t living.

Obviously, I’m having a bit of a hard time defining this.  But there are a few things I’m sure of: it isn’t healthy, it isn’t life as God intended, and I have a responsibility to do something about it.

Now, if you are reading this (welcome inside my head, by the way. I’m probably writing this more for the benefit of organizing my thoughts than to influence yours, but figured others might be able to speak toward or benefit from my musings if I threw them out here…) please don’t simplify this issue.  I don’t want to hear trite encouragements to “pray more,” or “take more time off,” or - my favorite - “prioritize.”  All those are truth, but I’m too tired to see clearly how to apply that advice.

This tiredness… this life-pace problem… this work/rest relationship is complicated.  I’ve been down this road a thousand times only to realize again and again that I’ve gone in a circle.  I’ve tried spiritual practices, being more health conscious, seeking wise counsel, and building better boundaries.  Both problem and solutions are multi-layered and potentially chronic.

So, I’ve decided on a first step.  I’m going to… here it comes… think about this more.

Perhaps that seems like a weak first step, but I’m pretty tired, and when I’m tired, intentional reflection is the first casualty.  So, I’m going to spend some time and energy (both in short supply) considering how I can overcome tiredness, find my rhythm, restore my soul, and start really living.

I’m grateful for some religious leaders at some unknown point in history instituted a time of spiritual preparation in the 40 days leading up to Easter called “Lent.”  I’ve adopted this practice at various times in the past to focus my life in one direction or another.  So this year I’m going to do some thinking.

For the sake of accountability and my own processing… here’s what this “thinking” will look like:

• use this blog to share some thoughts about topics like work, rest, sabbath, and pace
• read Mark Buchanan’s “The Rest of God”
• review 3 or 4 other books and articles I’ve collected on this topic in the last couple of years.
• be intentional to get enough sleep each night (goal: in bed by 11, at least 6.5 hours a night).
• take a “tithe” of these 40 days off - 4 days may not seem like a lot, but this is spring at Grace College.
• I’m not sure how this fits, but traditionally Lent has included abstaining from something for this brief time.  I’ve decided to cut out all food after supper and all coffee after lunch.

Don’t think I remembered to actually publish this when I meant to back in July…

I won’t give a long description of what “moving beyond” is all about, but basically it’s about:

• seeing our faith as a journey
• enduring and learning through whatever trial we are currently facing
• growing forward through life
• following God in obedience
• a discontentment with the status quo
• seeing ourselves as aliens and exiles

So, in (let’s see…) 4 hours Sarah is scheduled to deliver child #3 via c-section.

I’m up early as #2 has a pesky cough that he can’t shake.  I offered him a cup of water which he seemed relieved to receive, but then sleepily poured down his neck.  We both laughed - an unexpected moment of joy at 4:40 in the middle of the night.  Now I can’t sleep.

This is literally a moment pregnant with anticipation… expectation… hope…

To be completely honest with myself - and I guess you the reader - the excitement is peppered with other moments, brief moments of uncertainty, anxiety, and fear.  I bounce between dreaming of wonderful future experiences with another daughter and rehearsals of “worst case scenarios.”  So, then I get all tied up in my thoughts - wanting to be positive yet realistic, wanting to cherish the moment but not ignore the risks.

So who can sleep?  Sarah’s not, I hear her tossing and turning, sniffing and sighing in the next room.  Do we even need to verbalize the confusion of these moments?

So, I pray.  I thank God for the opportunity to reflect on this moment.  Really, all of life should be viewed from this level.  I wish I were always aware of the imminent potential for joy or pain in a given moment.  To know that the stakes are high all the time. Life or death…  good or evil… success or failure… laughter or tears…

“Blessed be Your name when the sun’s shining down on me, when the world’s ‘all as it should be’ blessed be Your name. And blessed be Your name on the road marked with suffering, though there’s pain in the offering, blessed be Your name.  Every blessing You pour out I’ll turn back to praise.  When the darkness closes in, Lord, still I will say, “Blessed be the name of the Lord!”

Metanoia,
Aaron