As a non-church kid, the terms “sabbath” or “sabbatical” were completely foreign to me growing up. It was only later, during my years working at a college, that I first learned about professors taking “sabbatical leave” for rest, travel, and/or research.
Additionally, I now know pastors or parachurch workers who have taken sabbatical leave (often a few months) as part of their vocation. As a person trained in mental/emotional health and burnout prevention, this always seemed like such a good idea that clearly yielded benefits for these folks. In fact, I kind of wondered why everyone wasn’t doing it.
So, Where Does the Sabbatical Concept Come From?
As you might imagine, both “sabbath” and “sabbatical” are derived from similar places: the Greek “sabbaton” and even further back, the Hebrew “shabbath” meaning rest. The most common application is the day of rest God established in Genesis and later reminded His people to observe many times, in both the New and Old Testaments. Additionally, there is an interesting, longer Sabbath practice mentioned in Leviticus that refers to rest from work every seventh year, the time frame still guiding many universities and religious organizations today.
So, while I am not a professor nor a pastor, I am a limited human who recently thought, “I wonder if a longer sabbatical period in my own life might be helpful?” Turns out (unsurprisingly) yes. And, I’d love to share with you what I learned.
What I Learned in My First Sabbatical
Be Intentional About Timing: God designed us to rest. And, He designed us to work. Although it may sound counterintuitive, I intentionally took this sabbath from some of my own work during one of the busiest seasons in our family life. As is reflected in many stories of Jesus healing people on the Sabbath, rest doesn’t always mean shutting down work completely (although it can and sometimes should). Instead, it may simply be a time to narrow one’s focus on the most important work for a specific time so we can work and get rest rather than completely wearing ourselves down.
It Was (Mostly) Freeing: Because my own work had been set aside, it was freeing to simply write down things I needed to do after the sabbatical was over, collect ideas for writing, etc. Admittedly, it was initially uncomfortable to not attend to tasks just because they were there. But, ultimately it developed some needed discipline and understanding that more things can wait than I sometimes realize.
It Exposed True Priorities: In busy times with less margin, I say things like, “When I have a moment I’ll take care of (fill in the blank).” As it turns out, I actually did care about cleaning the basement but, no amount of extra time brought about tending the flower beds. It is freeing when we take time to figure out what actually bothers us and what things we can remove from our mental load.
It Increased Trust Exponentially: My break lasted about a month. In that time I had to trust that God was taking care of what I was not tending to. In fact, that is the whole point of Sabbath from the very beginning. Whether it is our required weekly day of rest or a longer period, it is all aimed at one point. Will we rest so He may increase our trust in His provision and decrease the worship of our own self-sufficiency?
Are You Considering a Longer Sabbatical?
The “right” requirements around the Sabbath can get deep in the weeds quickly. What day, how long, what is and isn’t allowed, etc. have been debated for eons. However, what I know is this. Very few of us “rest well” or, perhaps better said, rest with intention. Whether from our own compulsion or habits, or our urgent, technology-driven culture, we live in a time when it is uniquely difficult to pause.
Rather than collapsing at the end of a day, week, or season because our bodies simply can’t go anymore, I wonder if we all may benefit from inquiring of the Lord what a more purposeful rest might look like within our individual circumstances.
As He did, and as He commands, may we follow for our benefit and flourishing.
Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash, used with permission
Anne Rulo 