Sabbaths are not new. In fact, they are very old. The first sabbath is recorded on day seven of the world. “And on the seventh day God finished his work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done” (Genesis 2:2).

God rested. The one who needs no rest, rested. He is God—he never tires. Nonetheless, he took a sabbath. And so should we. 

So I did—I took a Sabbath, that is. Four weeks off from preaching. My heart was tired. I felt a little bruised after a disconcerting season of ministry. I wasn’t suffering because of enduring crisis. It was more akin to the death of a thousand cuts. Ministry tends to do that. It doesn’t simply chew us up and spit us out. It wears us down until we lose our bearings. I was getting close to that. Our elders were gracious and our staff courageous in bearing the weight of four weeks of guest preachers. 

This coming Sunday puts a nice little period on a sentence that has communicated much to my soul. This Sabbath break taught me some things. More specifically, it is teaching me some things. I don’t think these lessons are a one and done kind of education. Sabbath breaks are less like arithmetic (4 + 4) and more like philosophy (what is the meaning of life?) We don’t simply learn and move on. We learn about ourselves and grow into greater Christlikeness because of it. 

For those of you who care about such things, or are interested in pastoral Sabbaths, or recognize a weariness in your soul that may require a break, this is what I am learning from my four weeks off. For the sake of brevity, I will give you three painful things I am learning and three beautiful things I am learning.

PAINFUL THINGS I AM LEARNING:

1. I am an idolater. Of course, I already knew this about myself. I break the first commandment often. But what surprises me is how clever I think I am in pulling one over on God. I slyly pull him off the throne of my life (while placating him with appropriate spiritual language) and proudly insert a more palatable god in his place: preaching. These four weeks have, once again, revealed how much I pursue much of my personal value and contentment in preaching. 

2. I am a critical person. Some say preaching is hard. I say listening is harder. Ask a preacher who attends another church. It’s immensely difficult to listen without critique. Even though all the men who have preached/taught at Vineyard came at our invitation, have handled the scriptures with honor and pastored with compassion, I couldn’t stop myself from listening to the inner dialogue of my mind. “Yes, that was a good point. But he should have used this text.” “OK buddy, move on. You’re losing the people. This story is taking foreveerrrrrrr.” It turns out I’m a jerk when I’m not on stage.

3. I am a control freak. Not about all things. In fact, I have a reputation among those I work with of being too hands-off. But when it comes to preaching, I’m anything but hands-off. I’m embarrassed (in some part) by how I have tried to micromanage the Sunday sermons in my absence. Thankfully, the men who stood before our people are first my friends, and they have been nothing but gracious towards me. 

BEAUTIFUL THINGS I AM LEARNING:

1. I have a great set of elders and pastors. These four weeks could never have happened without the gracious attitude and hard work of those who work alongside me. I can’t praise them enough! Beginning with the space afforded to me in these four weeks and ending with the sheer weight of our weekend gatherings falling squarely on them—they are rock stars. It reminds me how good I have it. 

2. I have a gracious church. While I have had multiple people approach me and ask, “Jon, when are you coming back? This is getting kind of ridiculous,” I have heard much more of, “These guys have been good for our church family. Thank you for making room for this.” These weeks away have been a sweet reminder about how healthy and special our church family has become. 

3. I have an ever-patient wife. Amy sees the worst parts of me. I can’t hide them for long. She has heard my complaints and insecurities and seen the itch I have to put my face mic back on and teach. She generally just listens. Sometimes she gives me a word of correction. Mostly, she just makes me a cup of coffee and invites me out on the back porch. 

Make no mistake, I’m ready to be back teaching. But these four weeks have been good for my soul and for the future of our church family.