“Observe the sabbath day and keep it holy… Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt…” This is the command to keep the sabbath, Deuteronomy-style. (5:12-15) Be a slave no longer!
Banu and I have been observing a “mini sabbatical.” (That’s why I haven’t posted in a while.) We don’t believe we were slaves in Egypt, but we do become slaves of different varieties. It’s true of all of us. We become slaves of lowered expectations. We become slaves of the way we’ve always done things. We become slaves of the way we’ve always been.
[Pensacola Beach pier; pigeon parade]
What else is sabbath (and sabbatical) about? We honor the Lord—we align ourselves more purely within intelligent personal supra-cosmic energy of love—by stopping. We take a break. We chill out. We rest. “If you have raced with foot-runners and they have wearied you, how will you compete with horses?” (Jeremiah 12:5)
And if we’re not trying to keep up with horses, that means we can listen. That is, listening to something other than our desperate attempts to catch our breath. To be sure, trying to keep up with horses will kill you! We can listen to the still small sound—or if you like, the sound of sheer silence. It is the eternal always-present voice of grace.
[Banu peers; I app-pier]
We have taken a time apart. In our case, it is to Pensacola. It is a time to relax and to refresh—a short time. (Thus, it is a quite mini sabbatical.) It is a time to listen and to learn. Perhaps it’s a time to bring to the surface lessons that have already been learned, lessons that have been held down. That is, lessons forcibly submerged into the watery oblivion of suppressed awareness, the realm of Leviathan and other scary monsters.
Now, let’s go swimming in the gulf.
[A shot of the Graffiti Bridge from our car; Ronan explores the backyard of our cottage]