This morning, I stopped tossing with the war-weary world when the Sabbath’s glory sky spanned the windshield. I rested with the faithful announcement that Satan’s head is pulverized and dead to me. I breathed deeper when the blue eyes of human love assured me of worth yet again.
The sands of time’s hourglass keep filtering on. Those bringing loudest jubilee shouts are fierce tastes of the forever Sabbath, but are still held by hearts trembling with their not-yet-ness. Today, this Sabbath, is for standing fast and believing in bigger grace, happy that I cannot know any other way to turn, and that rest now is possible. [Because truth is unchurning, and ever steady.]
A sick sister carries this Sabbath rest in her groaning body, as another hospital visit brings more tears. But, oh dear heartbeat! There’s a life in her. Safe-havened against his mother’s disease and the urge to worry. It’s stilling, the realization that all of his days have been written well when he has yet to take his first gasp of our shocking air. Another “peace, be still” on this good Sabbath.