The Listening Post

I have never been to Grand Canyon. In my imagination, there is a spot with a railing at which you look down a bottomless abyss. I imagine it’s an awe-inspiring sight – that is, unless you need to cross the bottomless pit to get to the other side.

This week, I talked to two people who are looking down at a bottomless pit, wondering how to get to the other side. They are knee deep in impossible circumstances where they realize they have come to the end of themselves, with no resource to get to where they need. They look across at where they need to be, and are force to admit it is entirely beyond them to get to.

It’s a hard place to be, especially for a guy – to feel completely helpless in crossing the bottomless pit, to take care of things and the people who depend on him to take care of things. It is an unfamiliar place for both men. And they are scared out of their wits they will not figure things out and lose their grip on everything that matter.

And both men found themselves praying. Not the polite Sunday recitals of a pew warmer, but heart wrenching, desperate cries for help kind of prayer.

God, please show up from them. Please don’t strand them on this side of the pit, for their sake and ours. Because we are watching to see what you will do, for the day we find ourselves looking over our pits. We need to see you rescue these two men so we can sleep knowing you will rescue us too.

There is a movie trailer recently where the smart-alecky star gets pulled over by a traffic cop and he says, “put it on my tab.”

It was in the middle of the Good Friday service this morning when I heard God say, “put it on my tab.” It’s a familiar analogy to what Jesus is doing on the cross that goes something like:

I just finished a feast in a fancy restaurant when I discover I don’t have my wallet. Just as the restaurant owner starts to get upset, Jesus jumps in between us and says to the owner, “just put it on my tab.”

I am not surprised then, looking up at the rough hewn prop cross on the stage, listening to dirges and dramatic readings on Good Friday about Jesus taking my place on the cross – picking up the tab for my sins, as it were.

But on this Good Friday, there is a twist. When I heard God say, “put it on my tab,” I am not the embarrassed customer who owes a debt – I am the restaurant owner. Just as I am getting ready to explode at the imbecile who is trying to stiff me, Jesus jumps in between us and says, “just put it on my tab.”

And on Good Friday, staring up at the prop cross, it’s hard to argue with the one who has also picked up my tab. At this particular moment, he’s got me where he wants me.

Doh! I thought he is on my side. I thought he is for me. You see, there happens to be a few people who is wearing on my last nerve at the moment, people who are handing me the short end of a stick for the fourth and fifth time. I want to get even. I want payback with interest. I want a pound of flesh. And Jesus tells me, “go ahead, just put it on my tab. I’ll cover it.”

But I have to be honest – as much as I know forgiveness is the right thing to do, and as much as I want to do the right thing, I have no idea how to do it. When I think of these people making camp on my last nerve, all I feel is the pain they inflicted on me.

So God, I don’t just need your account number, I need tuition fee and direction to the master’s class where you are going to show me how to do this forgiveness thing. Lord, have mercy.

You’ve heard it said that “life is a marathon, not a sprint.” It’s true – that life is about making it to the finish line. And it is necessary to pace oneself and live strategically and intentionally, rather than to just go all out, all the time.

Remember a few years ago, when someone ran out of the crowd and into the path of the Olympic marathon front runner? The runner’s concentration broke and was overtaken by another runner who eventually took gold. Remember the outrage and the cries of foul play that this runner was unfairly interrupted?

Unfortunately, there are few cries of foul play everyday when, people find their life progress interrupted by things they don’t plan on: illness, unemployment, economic mishaps, divorce, death. Life is far from a well controlled Olympic race where unwanted interruptions are cordoned off. Crud happens. It flows into our paths and there is only so much we can do to avoid it.

Recently, I was talking to a friend who at 30 is in a professional crisis. He is a bona fide genius, not used to failing. So he is unnerved by the fact that for the first time in his life, he is actually in danger of losing employment. He keeps calling this a “setback”.

It is certainly a setback from the perspective of whatever career goals he has for his life, and whatever strategy he has to get there. But a life plan that does not expect challenges is like going on an ocean voyage and not expect sea storms. No one gets smooth sailing in life. Crud happens.

I suggested to my friend to change paradigm. It’s not so much a setback as it is a challenge. It’s time to hang on the God for dear life, and see if he is really as smart or as capable as he thinks he is. It’s time to roll up sleeves and get into the crud and find a way through.

Chances are, at 30, he is going to have a couple more of these challenges before he retires – that is, if crud of other sorts don’t flow in from other areas of his life. The only thing I know for sure is that God is in the crud with him, and that between his smarts and what God supplies, he has everything he needs to do battle.

The other night, Danny Crane on Boston Legal says to his friend, “some how the lights, the music…Christmas just makes everything better.” Christmas is God who comes into our crud and squats down with us, and helps us find a way through our challenges. The lights, the music and smell of greenery make the coffee breaks a little more pleasant.

What would you do tomorrow if you found out today you won the lottery and you now have all the money you need to live? Since you don’t have to work for a living anymore, and since you can literally do only the things you choose to do, what are some things you would stop doing? What are some things you would start doing more of? What are some important things you can now do because you have all the time and energy in the world?

Well I have news for you: you have won just such a lottery. And instead of a monthly cheque for the rest of your life, you get something even better – a God who promises to take care of your needs for the rest of eternity.

You find it hard to believe? It’s too good to be true? Do you dare to find out?

When God rescues the ancient Israelites from Egyptian Slavery (The Exodus Story), he instructs the newly freed slaves to keep Sabbath – the Jewish practice of doing no work one day each week.

Sabbath literally means “stop”. It is a day each week to catch our breath so we don’t miss living life in the process of making life happen. The luxury of a day of rest must sound like winning to lottery to the Israelites who have known only forced physical hard labour – the kind done while someone stands over them with a whip. As good as the Sabbath sounds, it would also be a huge test of their faith. Like us, they need to know if God really can and will take care of them. And like us, it takes faith to leave work undone and trust our world will not stop spinning, the sky will not fall, and there will be enough food on the table.

The Sabbath is indeed a luxury, only afforded to those with a God who promises to love and care for them. For those whose life is entirely up to them, they cannot risk rest and play. For them, constant vigilance is demanded of them lest the sky will fall.

Having a loving God is precisely the difference between the Israelites and their Canaanite neighbours. So in two places in the Old Testament, God gives instruction for this practice of “stopping work”. “Do no work on the Sabbath,” Exodus says, because God rested on the seventh day of his creation week. In Deuteronomy, they are told to stop work because they are not slaves anymore.

Children in that ancient culture show love for their dads through imitation. The Sabbath is an opportunity to imitate God in the way he takes time to appreciate his own handiwork, just as we imitate his creativity and craft the rest of the week like good children. We are children with a heavenly father, creatures with a God. In a properly ordered world, children and creatures find their security and livelihood from someone else, not from their own industry and work-ethic. The Sabbath is an intentional re-calibration of our centre on God as our source of security and livelihood. And along the way, we also re-centre our souls on things that really matter – our faith, people we love, play and leisure that keep us creative and human. The Sabbath is the antidote to the pressures of a self-made world which compels us to empire-build, hoard and trample for our own survival.

The Sabbath is also the way to safeguard from the tyrannical nature of work. Ex-slaves may be lured into thinking that hard work is the way to keep from becoming slaves again, only to end up enslaving themselves. Ex-slaves, having escaped the one holding they whip, have a way of finding comfort in new slave-masters. The Sabbath is a weekly practice of personhood – we do not live for work as slaves do. And if we are prone to forget that on the weekdays, the Sabbath is a day to correct the slave mindset.

But the Sabbath is not to be confused with a day off. Rather, it is a day on. It is the day when we practice being fully alive in the life God created us to live, enjoying the things God gives us for pleasure. At the end of the Sabbath, we re-enter our work life allowing our Sabbatical mindset to seep into the rest of our week. Our work may wear us down. But we know within six days, there will be the opportunity again to re-centre. So goes the rhythm of life as a creature loved by God, living outside of paradise. And the Sabbath is not so much taking time off, as it is honouring time. Everyone gets the same time in a day, and no one knows how much time they have left. On the Sabbath, we practice treating time as a gift, rather than a commodity.

Unlike the Jewish Sabbath which is sundown Friday to sundown Saturday, the Christian Sabbath can be any day that works for you. It begins at bedtime and ends at bedtime one day later – as a reminder that when wake up on Sabbath day, the day is already half over, that the world has gotten along just fine without us while we slept. Four things we need for a Sabbatical strategy: a plan and a place, for prayer and play.

Besides not working, the Sabbatical plan is your own personal declaration of independence. If you feel enslaved to something, the Sabbath is 24 hours where you are set free from your vices, with God’s help. For example, someone who watches a lot of TV can declare their independence by switching off. Someone who shops a lot can declare their independence by buying nothing on their Sabbath. Someone enslaved by schedules and clocks can declare their independence by not wearing a watch and making no appointments. Ask God to show you your slave masters, and you can declare your independence from them on your Sabbath by practicing to say no them.

The Sabbatical place is an environment where we feel free from work and vices, and clear a space for encountering God. Go to the place where you are most aware of God’s presence and your creatureliness. Go hiking if nature is your sanctuary. Go for a walk at night if the starry sky is where you feel closest to God. Get away from your desk, your unfinished homework or housework. It takes faith to do that, but it can all wait until tomorrow. Just because you can.

When we get to our Sabbatical place, we get all the time in the world to talk with God. Just as God takes in his creations on his first Sabbath, we get to kick back and talk to him about what we have done in our week. We get to celebrate the triumphs and make mental notes on things that need our attention. But this isn’t self-improvement. Working on us can wait until tomorrow. The Bible and other books can facilitate conversation with God. And don’t forget to make space to listen – because it is a conversation where God gets to talk as well.

Finally, the Sabbath is time to play – doing things with people we love for fun. On the Sabbath, we have all the time in the world to spend with people central to us, relationships that are our lifeline.

Many people tell me on their first Sabbath, they feel antsy or guilty for not working. This is almost the clearest indication of how far we have strayed from our Creator’s life rhythm, and why we need to stop. Some students tell me their grades improved when the learned to Sabbath. We may even live longer. But even if we don’t, at least we can say in our lives that God has given us all the time we needed for the most important things.

I tell people the most spiritual thing I do is keeping Sabbath – which is nothing. At least it is nothing the world considers successful. Everything I know about the Sabbath I learned from Eugene Peterson, and from authors like Marva Dawn and Abraham Heschel who have written on the topic. Credit for this article goes to them.