I Won't Be Trampled

Most of us think that rest will just happen. We'll catch a nap on Saturday or sleep in on Sunday. We'll download a popular pastor's recent sermon and pray over our coffee—praying to just hang on for this "season." It's almost over. Then we'll get some real rest and really dial into God and all that.

We all deal with seasons of life. But fast and furious seasons of life should not negate the rhythms of Sabbath and continual prayer in our lives. In order to keep our sanity and health and spiritual vitality, disciplined living is essential. And disciplined living begins with Sabbath rest.

What does it mean to rest in God?

God rested from His creation work on the seventh day. We, therefore, should follow suit. We take time off from our work and do something else relaxing, or we do nothing at all. But Sabbath rest does not necessarily mean we become sedentary for a day. In fact, Sabbath rest is less something you do and more a place you go; or put another way, a way that you are.

The writer of Hebrews says, “So then, there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God” (4:9). Israel, because of their lack of faith, did not enter into the promised land and so did not enter into God’s rest.

When we fail to enter into God’s rest, we live in rebellion and anxiety. We all know what that means for our work: stress. But when we learn to trust in God's provision and leave our projects for a day, we find that place where God rests. It’s a place of “quiet alertness,” as author Richard Foster puts it.

A Sabbath rhythm is an act of trust. It’s an active and deliberate decision to obey God, weekly. But not only weekly. You can practice Sabbath each day as you take time to retreat in your mind and heart, leaving space for reflection upon God's Word, expressing thanks for His provision, asking Him to be your teacher daily and trusting in Him as your friend.

Too easily we crowd our schedules with our dreams and to-do lists. These are not bad in and of themselves. But they become bad when they become our idols. When was the last time you took a real Sabbath? Took a hike? Played with your kids all day? Had early morning breakfast with your spouse? Spent an afternoon reading the Scriptures, confessing and giving thanks? Took a real break from your work to enjoy God? One of my professors used to say, “Sabbath should be a little slice of heaven.”

Sabbath rest not only helps us regain our physical composure and focus on God, it also allows us to finally listen to His voice. More than anything, this has challenged and encouraged Jason and me the most. When I rest during each weekday, taking time for silent prayer and just breathing, I am truly able to hear His voice more clearly.

When I get to my Sabbath day and find myself playing with my girls or fumbling around my truck engine, I hear God more clearly. These times are not always times of great epiphany either. Often they are times of confession and conviction—when His truth bears down on me, crushing me.

Once, I faced a ten-hour travel day from Belfast to Atlanta with an L.A. trip waiting just a day after my return to the south. So I rose early and walked to Queens University in the Northern Ireland rain. I was winded and tired, but the time with God was sweet; full of “Thank You” and praise as the blue glow of the morning swelled. What a way to start the day!

When we Sabbath we are not taking part in mere ritual. We are joining our Heavenly Father in a place of quiet alertness. And in that rest, in that quiet, He speaks.

Today's Prayer: Keep me from being trampled, Oh Lord, by busy-ness and my own idolatry. Refresh me in tiny bits of heaven as I step into your rest. 

Today's Prayer Series is taken from a new FREE eBOOK my friend, Jason Locy, and I have just released. It's called The Sound of Silence: A Short Book on Rest. 

DOWNLOAD IT FOR FREE HERE

And be sure to tell a friend if you find it to be a blessing. 

Cheers, 

Tim

How To Move God

I played in your land, Oh Lord, scoring the trail with my aggressive tread and steal steed. My bike lunged, wheelied and billygoated up and up. I pushed through switchbacks, laughing for the sheer dominance of man over earth. I laughed for the sheer joy of man communing with earth.

I jeeprolled through the swollen creek, muddy with summer rain, and fell into the water atop river rocks and salamanders—and I hollered and spoke out damnation on the trail. I hollered and spoke out blessing on the trail. I climbed Heart-attack Hill praying out loud while the spike-deer running next to me taunted me with graceful leaps.

And the prayer lifted, coming regular off my lips like friendship conversation, pub-like and frolicking, loving just the moment of sharing and the moments of laughing. I called out to you, "Change this reality. And, Lord, you can do this." I wasn't struck down for blasphemy. Instead joy sprung from my brazen, yet thankful, words.

I was not silent in my prayer. In the open, my words fell. The laurel heard me and rustled. The spike-deer bounded back into the trees to tell his brethren. And we all of us raised our spirits. Oh, the wonder of hearing words spoken to God. The sheer 'YAWP' of our faith, of my faith.

Am I barbaric, in the woods yelling out strange requests to God? Do I revel in something profane when I splash around in the mud and sing praise at the same time?

I am convinced we pray, not to change ourselves, but to change reality. We cannot bend God to us, yet he condescends to our offering of prayer. And he moves in our reality. He bends things to his righteous ones.

Are you hurting? Pray. Do you feel great? Sing. Are you sick? Call the church leaders together to pray and anoint you with oil in the name of the Master. Believing-prayer will heal you, and Jesus will put you on your feet. And if you’ve sinned, you’ll be forgiven—healed inside and out.

Make this your common practice: Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you can live together whole and healed. The prayer of a person living right with God is something powerful to be reckoned with. Elijah, for instance, human just like us, prayed hard that it wouldn’t rain, and it didn’t—not a drop for three and a half years. Then he prayed that it would rain, and it did. The showers came and everything started growing again. (James 5:13-18, The Message)

Can I, Lord, be righteous for one day? Can you hear my prayer? It rises on thanksgiving and glows into the heavens with petition. I need you to stop the rain. I need you to bring the deluge. I need you, I need you.

In my prayers I find delight. I fold it back and find you—the joy of my salvation. I am carving up this trail of life with my big wheels of hope and faith. You bend for me and all I can do is sing.

The Prayer Series // Strength Through Confession

​Brothers and sisters, what power does confession hold? It holds the power to bind us close to one another. It holds the power to renew our relationship with the Lord Jesus.

John the Beloved reminds us to confess our sins because the act of confession can refresh our fellowship with God and one another.

Too often we think confession entails unloading some big sin. But though confession might entail such an unloading, it actually begins simply. It begins with the awareness to see how we have caused a rift or mistreated or in some way wronged a brother or sister or the Lord.

Moses said, "When you become aware of your guilt in any of these ways, you must confess your sins." (Lev. 5:5)

Confession also includes a toppling of pride. Think about it. Why don't we confess to one another? Because our pride tells us we have nothing to confess, or that whatever we have to confess will be too embarrassing, or that we will lose control of a position of power. Pride lies and dupes us to live a lie. Such is not life, but a heavy existence of guilt.

"When I refused to confess my sin," wrote David, "my body wasted away and I groaned all day long. My strength evaporated like water in the summer heat." (Ps. 32:3,4)

The act of confession draws us toward one another. But we fail to take that first step toward fellowship. All it takes is seven words: I was wrong, will you forgive me. A confession!

Think about how sweet your friendships would be if confession and forgiveness were our common language. Imagine how our marriages might shine if confession and forgiveness replaced pride and selfishness.

James gives us this prayer: Lord Jesus, help me confess my sins to you and those whom I love. Strengthen me to pray for them so that we find healing.  (James 5:16)