Growing up, Shabbat was simply part of my life.
Every seventh day was different from the other six. It was set apart. There were things we did and things we didn’t do, and as a child, my understanding was pretty straightforward:
It’s Shabbat. We don’t do that.
That was enough explanation for little me. 😆
Friday nights often meant spending time with my father. He was a Hebrew teacher and loved studying the Word of God. Sometimes I would read Psalms or listen to praise music he played. Other times, we’d go upstairs to visit another Israelite family who lived in my grandfather’s house.
My father could spend hours studying a Torah portion with the young men there. They would read the passage in English, then go into the Hebrew to explore the meaning more deeply.
And I would find myself a comfortable spot on the sofa.
I didn’t realize it then, but those evenings were teaching me something beyond the particular Torah portion they were studying.
They made it normal to give Scripture undivided attention.
There was nowhere else we needed to rush off to. No work waiting to be completed before the night was over. The time had already been set apart.
As I got older, Shabbat continued to have its own rhythm.
Sometimes I spent Friday nights alone in my room listening to praise music, reading Scripture, or reviewing assignments from Shabbat school. I might be studying the Ten Commandments one week and trying to remember a genealogy another.
And sometimes I was simply trying not to become distracted by whatever secular music I could hear playing outside. 😆
There were things I enjoyed about Shabbat.
There were also things I didn’t particularly appreciate.
School events happened on Friday nights.
Games happened on Saturdays.
Parties happened.
And everybody else seemed perfectly free to attend them.
I was already accustomed to feeling different, and Shabbat gave me one more way to be different.
Fortunately, our congregation found ways to make learning enjoyable for children. We had games, word searches, and activities built around Scripture. I could spend time with other children who understood why our Saturdays looked different.
Still, I mostly understood Shabbat through the boundaries around it.
Do this.
Don’t do that.
Remember the Sabbath because God said so.
I understood the requirement long before I understood the gift.
And apparently, the Most High was willing to give me a weekly reminder until I caught up. 😆
Life Gave Me More Context
The older I became, the more responsibilities I accumulated.
College made weekends feel very different. Professors apparently considered Friday night through Sunday an excellent amount of time to complete assignments.
I had Saturday night through Sunday.
Wonderful. 😂
Then came employment.
Commuting.
Taking a bus to a train and watching the time because I needed to get home before sundown.
Trying to finish everything before Shabbat while simultaneously stressing myself out about getting ready to rest.
Eventually I was able to arrange my work schedule so I could work longer hours earlier in the week and have Fridays off.
And something changed.
I could prepare.
I could get my clothing ready.
Wash and style my hair.
Take care of what needed my attention beforehand.
I didn’t have to spend Friday afternoon rushing toward sundown and then expect my mind to become peaceful simply because the clock said it was time.
That’s when I started thinking about Shabbat differently.
It reminded me of learning to drive.
When you’re approaching a red light, you don’t keep your foot on the accelerator until the last possible second and then slam on the brakes.
Well, hopefully you don’t. 😆
You gradually slow down.
Then you stop.
I realized I needed something similar.
Preparation became part of rest.
I could slow my week down before asking myself to cease from it.
Because there had been plenty of times when the room was quiet but my mind was still at work.
My body had stopped.
My thoughts hadn’t gotten the message yet.
When Rest Started Feeling Like a Gift
As my responsibilities grew, so did my appreciation for Shabbat.
I’ve spent years building a career, meeting expectations and doing work that requires a great deal of mental energy. Even when I don’t particularly enjoy what I’m doing, I still care about doing it well.
Quality matters to me.
So I show up.
I think.
I analyze.
I perform the work to the best of my ability.
And by the end of some weeks?
I am very happy to be commanded to stop. 😂
Suddenly, something that felt restrictive when I was younger began to feel incredibly considerate.
The commandment hadn’t changed.
Life had given me more context for understanding it.
I began to recognize that the command to rest wasn’t some arbitrary restriction. There was care for us within it.
Human beings need to stop.
Our bodies need recovery.
Our minds need rest.
Our attention needs somewhere to go besides the next responsibility demanding it.
And I need time with the Most High that isn’t constantly being squeezed between everything else.
Now I can find myself looking forward to Shabbat before Friday even arrives.
Thursday?
Happy Friday Eve! 😆
By Friday afternoon, I’m ready.
The workweek has reached its boundary.
For this period of time, I don’t have to perform my job.
I don’t have to figure everything out.
I don’t have to turn every available hour into an opportunity to be productive.
I can cease.
More Than Not Working
I’ve also learned that Shabbat isn’t simply about what I stop doing.
It’s about what stopping makes room for.
I can watch a Shabbat service online when I’m unable to attend a congregation nearby.
I can study.
I can read.
I can pray without rushing because I need to get ready for work.
I can sit quietly.
I can rest.
I can turn on praise music and dance around my house.
And I can sing as loudly as I want because even if nobody else appreciates my voice, the One who gave it to me does. 😆❤️
Let everything that has breath praise Him, right?
There is something meaningful to me about knowing that the Most High wants my attention and has deliberately set apart time that allows me to give it more freely.
Throughout the week, so many things compete for that attention.
Work.
Responsibilities.
Appointments.
Projects.
People.
My own thoughts.
Shabbat gives me an opportunity to reduce some of that competition.
Not because every Shabbat is perfectly peaceful.
It isn’t.
Sometimes I rush into it and my thoughts are still running.
Sometimes I become distracted.
Sometimes I have to be intentional about what I watch, what I listen to, which conversations I entertain, and where I allow my mind to wander.
Rest, I’ve discovered, also requires boundaries.
But I understand those boundaries differently now.
From Compliance to Relationship
When I was young, obedience was much simpler in my mind.
God said to do something, so you did it.
God said not to do something, so you didn’t.
You certainly didn’t want to get in trouble with God. 😅
But as I’ve grown, I’ve wanted something deeper than compliance.
I want relationship.
I want to understand the Most High.
I want to know what He requires of me and why.
And I want my obedience to come increasingly from a sincere desire to walk with Him rather than merely from fear of what might happen if I don’t.
That’s changed the way I understand Shabbat.
I didn’t have to understand everything about the commandment before keeping it.
Keeping it helped me understand.
Week after week.
Year after year.
Different stages of life gave me different experiences of the same seventh day.
The child who wondered why she couldn’t attend certain events grew into the adult who sometimes reaches Thursday thinking:
We’re almost there. 😂
The day didn’t change.
I did.
And I’m still changing.
Maybe that’s part of what sacred rhythms give us.
We return to them again and again, bringing whatever this particular season of life has taught us.
Sometimes we discover that something we once experienced primarily as a restriction was also making room for something we hadn’t learned how to appreciate yet.
Sacred Pause
Is there a practice, boundary, or instruction you understand differently now because life has given you more context?
Have you ever practiced something faithfully before fully understanding its value?
What has experience taught you that explanation alone couldn’t?
And when it comes to rest, consider this:
Do you give yourself time to slow down before expecting yourself to stop?
What might preparation for genuine rest look like in your current season?
Scripture for the Season
“Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.”
— Exodus 20:8
The command has been there all along.
My understanding of it has taken time.
And perhaps that’s okay.
Some lessons aren’t learned once.
Sometimes we live with them long enough for experience to deepen our understanding.
Carry This With You
I used to understand Shabbat largely by what I couldn’t do.
Now I also recognize what the boundary makes possible.
Rest.
Attention.
Connection.
Renewal.
Time intentionally set apart for the Most High.
I still don’t enter every Shabbat with a perfectly quiet mind. Sometimes my body stops before my thoughts do. I’m human.
But I’ve learned to prepare differently.
To slow down before stopping.
To welcome the boundary rather than race toward it.
And after decades of receiving the same reminder every seventh day, I can finally say:
I didn’t have to understand the gift before receiving it. Sometimes receiving it again and again is what taught me how to recognize the gift.
