Rita Chapman: “Reflections on Sabbath”

Reflections on Sabbath

by Rita Chapman

Growing up as the daughter of missionaries to the Congo, Sunday – or the Sabbath always held a unique place in our lives. It was an unquestioned tradition in our family with deep roots in our past and in each of the communities in which we lived. At the time, Sunday, our Sabbath, had a collection of specific practices that were explained to us in terms of how they “honored God.”We wore special Sunday clothes, for example, to celebrate going to God’s house on his special day. I don’t ever remember missing a Sunday church service growing up. Even when we were traveling! We simply stopped at a convenient church along the way and joined them for worship.

Our Sabbath was to be a God honoring day, but we also learned that our Sundays were to be a day of rest. We were taught that, “…On the 7 th day, God rested.” But, as a child, what did resting really mean? And, was resting for one person, or one family the same as resting for everyone else? It turned out that handed down family traditions became pretty important here. In our family, anything that related to the working world, that could be related to the manufacturing of something, or that were related to sports events or games were put aside. We sometimes didn’t see the logic, but understood that these Sabbath practices had their roots in our family’s understanding of what it meant to rest and honor God. As I grew and my faith deepened I began to own the Sabbath. Setting aside Sunday as a day of rest and spiritual renewal became an important principal in my own life. “Be still and know that I am God.”

In Congo, this often meant a quiet Sabbath morning with time to reflect and sit with a hot cup of tea; refocusing and re-centering on God’s goodness and faithfulness. Animated church services which followed, were surely powerful collective expressions of joy and exuberance in the Lord, further renewing faith and purpose. Reconnecting with others who shared in faith with me became a meaningful part of my Sabbath, too. Easier done in Congo where people live outdoors and only sleep inside their houses.

In reflection, I am so grateful for the early training my parents gave me in keeping the Sabbath holy, and for how those practices, as imperfect as they might have been, provided me with spiritual guidance that has strengthened and directed the rest of my life. Letting go of the furious pace and the disorienting distractions of life for a Sabbath season of quiet and recommitment to God brings me refreshment and strength.