With all the things going on in the world, it’s hard to know where to start, isn’t it? As Christians, it feels like God is calling us to put our energy into everything, everywhere, all at once. It’s a high calling. But it’s also feeling a little exhausting – at least to me.
Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to the passage we read from the book of Exodus. It’s not a well-known passage. The particulars of the building of the Tabernacle hardly make for a devotional classic. But having spent several decades teaching the Old Testament, I think there may be something here for us – a word for the weary, if you will.
But before we delve into that passage, I’d like to say a few words in praise of the humble stop sign.
It’s been a long time since I took driver’s education, but I remember our teacher being quite emphatic about stop signs. “Stop signs are not suggestions!” he told us. And if you’ve been on the road for more than a minute, you can attest to the truth of that statement yourself.
Bad things happen – both for you and for others – when you treat stop signs as “suggestions.”
With that as background, I’d like to return to the question of how to address our spiritual, physical, and mental exhaustion as Christians.
One of the things I love about so many of the Waldensians I have met over the years is the way they “walk their talk.” Indeed, it feels like the apostle Paul could have been writing about them when he talked about people who are never “weary of well-doing” (Gal. 6:9).
If you identify as a Waldensian, it’s not often that I get to publicly pat you all on the back, so don’t argue with me. Just take the compliment!
But having said that…I wonder if maybe we’ve taken that “be not weary with well-doing” thing too far. Hear me out with a little help from the Old Testament lesson for today.
Exodus 35 tells the story of Moses giving the people God’s instructions for building the Tabernacle. At first blush, this isn’t the most compelling part of the Bible, what with all those lampstands and utensils and vestments. But I’d like for us to take a closer look at this passage today, because I think it says something crucial for us as Christians.
Did you notice what the first words out of Moses’ mouth were? Before he starts in with the minutia, he reminds them of God’s command to honor the Sabbath: “Six days shall work be done,” he says, “but on the seventh day you shall have a holy sabbath of solemn rest to the LORD” (v. 2). And just so the people know he’s serious, he also reminds them that disobedience to this command will get you the death penalty.
I’ll bet THAT got their attention! It should get our attention, too—though I’m not going to suggest we carry out the death penalty for Sabbath-breaking. The fact of the matter is: Sabbath-breaking comes with its own kind of death penalty—as I think many of us have discovered to our peril.
But we’re getting ahead of ourselves here. Let’s back up and look at the “big picture” of the book of Exodus. The book starts, as you remember, with an extended picture of the people of God enslaved in what the Old Testament scholar, Ellen Davis, calls “Pharaoh’s industrial killing machine.” There are 13 whole chapters devoted to detailing this picture—a picture of “bad work.”
Now fast forward through the liberation at the Red Sea and the unfortunate interruption involving a golden calf (kind of a “false start” I suppose you could say). Now we arrive in the wilderness, where the newly liberated people of God are given instructions for building the Tabernacle. This activity, as Davis points out, is the epitome of “good work.” It’s work that glorifies God and not the pharaoh. It is done with generous and willing hearts rather than with forced and exhausted bodies. It rejects excess in terms of both time and materials.
In short, this work is everything the “bad work” of slavery was not. So, to recap, the book of Exodus presents us with two very different pictures of “work.” There are 13 chapters of “bad work” and 13 chapters of “good work.” Two pictures, meant to contrast absolutely.
Someday, we should try to unpack all the implications of “good work” for our lives. But for now, suffice it to say that one of the most important characteristics of “good work” is that it allows for Sabbath. These were the first words out of Moses’ mouth, remember, as he began to read the Tabernacle’s instruction booklet. You must take Sabbath!
Try to hear that command with the ears of the newly liberated people of God. It would not have been a burden; it would have been an unbelievable blessing! In their new reality, there would always be the opportunity — yea, the expectation — for rest. Good work—by definition—leaves room for rest.
Huh! I wonder whether there might be something important in that for us?
When I taught this to seminarians, I always enjoyed seeing the light bulbs come on over their heads as they realized: “Oh! Here is an important word for exhausted clergy!” In fact, there’s an important word here for all Christians who think that we should never be “weary of well-doing.” Who believe that we can never set our burdens down.
As we’ve already admitted, it’s pretty exhausting to be a Christian these days. Heck, it’s exhausting to be a human these days – especially if you’re the kind of human who has a high sense of responsibility, a low threshold of guilt, and a keen sense of justice.
If you’re that kind of person, God love you! And hear the good news: God does love you! But now hear some even better news: Because God loves you, God has given you the Sabbath – a day when, among other things – you are allowed (yea, commanded) to lay your burdens down for a day. Even the burdens of your good work! Sabbath is God’s gracious stop sign. And blowing through God’s gracious stop sign will not turn out well for anyone.
Do you believe that? I mean, really? Or are you sitting there making a mental list of reasons why you’re just not sure this commandment is for you?
They say the best sermons are the ones you preach to yourself. So, you should know that I am SO preaching to myself here. I know all about those mental lists of excuses for not receiving the gift of Sabbath. But here’s something I’ve learned while struggling with this: If we think God can’t get by without our help for 24 hours, we’ve got bigger problems than just being too busy.
Can you say, “idolatry”?
If you’d like to learn more about Sabbath, and all the ways it challenges us to go against the grain of our non-stop, work-obsessed culture, I highly recommend the new book of my former colleague Travis West, The Sabbath Way: Making Room in Your Life for Rest, Connection, and Delight. And just to whet your appetite for what that book has to offer, I’d like to close with a story Travis tells about something called “the Good Samaritan Study” (p. 89).
In 1973, social psychologists conducted an experiment. The subjects of the study were students at Princeton Theological Seminary—chosen precisely because they were thought to be people who would not only be familiar with the story of the Good Samaritan but be most likely to try to uphold its values.
Here is how the experiment unfolded—and I’m just going to quote this straight from Travis’ book. He writes: Half of the students were told to write a sermon on the Good Samaritan; the other half was told to prepare a talk about the kinds of jobs seminary had prepared them for. Then they were sent to a different building on campus, where they would present their remarks. One third of the participants were told they had plenty of time to get to the other building, one-third were told they weren’t late, but that they shouldn’t dawdle, and one-third were told that they were late, and they should hurry.
The real experiment took place along the path between the buildings where an actor was planted, unbeknownst to the participants. The man was in visible distress, slumped over in a doorway. He would cough twice, loudly, and then moan as each person approached. The researchers wanted to see who would stop to offer help, and to discover why people do or do not stop to offer help to strangers who appear to be in distress…
What they found was remarkable and ironic…. The only meaningful variable that impacted whether participants stopped to help was how big a hurry they were in. Those who were not in a hurry were much more likely to stop and help than those who thought they were late or almost late. Knowledge of the Good Samaritan story … did not substantially impact their ability to live out the story. Ironically, some participants literally stepped over the man on their way to preach on the Good Samaritan, just as the priest and Levite do in the parable. The researchers concluded that “ethics becomes a luxury as the speed of our daily lives increases” (pp. 89-90).
Ethics becomes a luxury as the speed of our daily lives increases.
I’m not sure I’m surprised by that conclusion, but it still hits me right between the eyes. And I wonder how it plays into this idea of God’s Sabbath command. I hope you’ll wonder about it, too. Here are some preliminary thoughts to jump-start your own reflections:
· If it’s not enough for you that God commands us to take a Sabbath—even from good work…
· If it’s not enough that Jesus, the Lord of the Sabbath, says, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest” (Mt. 11:28)….
· If it’s not enough that you live in a maelstrom of ever-intensifying anxiety and ever-accelerating crises (whether natural, political, or personal)…then:
Then consider Sabbath because of all of the needs you may be failing to notice because you’re just too busy to SEE them. Maybe Sabbath will make it possible to see the needs right under your nose!
Whatever motivates you to receive the gift of Sabbath, I hope you’ll find some way to open your heart to what Travis West calls “the Sabbath way.” It really is a way of Rest, Connection, and Delight. Some of you are already doing so and can testify to what a difference it’s made in your life. Hallelujah! But if Sabbath isn’t something you’ve considered very seriously, I urge you to try it! It may be just what God is calling you to receive in the midst of these chaotic times.
But where to start. I have an idea. I’d like for us to conduct a little Sabbath experiment of our own, right here, right now. I’m going to suggest we pray a brief prayer together. I usually say it just before I fall asleep, but it works well for starting Sabbath as well. It goes like this:
O God, I give into your hands
My unfinished tasks
My unsolved problems, and
My unfulfilled hopes.
Let’s try it. Close your eyes and be still, at least for a few seconds before you begin to read, and then open your eyes and read it as your own prayer.
There. Doesn’t that feel better? You may have to repeat it a few times as the day goes on. Worries have a way of creeping back.
In the meantime: Be still. Slow down. Breath in. Breath out. And know that God is God.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit—Amen.
This article was written by the Rev. Dr. Carol Bechtel, the executive director of the American Waldensian Society and Old Testament Professor Emerita at Western Theological Seminary in Holland, Michigan. It was originally offered on September 28, 2025, as the sermon at the Waldensian Presbyterian Church in Valdese, North Carolina.
