A New Kind of Discipline Pt. 9: Rest

The practice of rest pushes against two deep lies that shape the way most of us live:

1. “I am what I produce.” We are conditioned to measure our value by what we accomplish—grades, careers, paychecks, even ministry results. But Sabbath cuts through that illusion. It reminds us that God’s love is not earned by output, but freely given through grace. On Sabbath, I am not a producer, I am a beloved child. My worth doesn’t rise and fall with my performance.

   
   

2. “Everything depends on me.” The anxiety of our age comes from believing the world will fall apart if we stop for even a moment. Sabbath exposes that lie. When we rest, we practice trust—trust that God is holding the universe together, not us. We step back, breathe, and remember: He is God, I am not.

   
   

That’s why Sabbath is not laziness or neglect. Rest is worship. It is an act of faith that lets go of striving and embraces God’s full work in my life and the world around me. It is resistance against a restless world that says “do more, be more, prove more.” Every time we stop, we’re making a bold declaration: Christ is enough. His work is complete. My life is secure in Him.

Lie #1: I Am What I Produce

From the time we are young, we are graded, scored, ranked, and measured. That system doesn’t stop in adulthood—it just shifts to résumés, bank accounts, titles, and even ministry success. Without realizing it, we begin to believe that our worth is equal to our output. If I produce more, I am worth more. If I fail, I am worth less.

Sabbath exposes that lie. When we stop producing, we remember that God’s love is not something to earn—it is something already given. Our identity isn’t “employee,” “student,” or even “leader.” On Sabbath, we are simply children of God, loved not for what we do but for who we are in Christ.

In this way, Sabbath isn’t wasted time. It is reclaiming time. Time to remember that my value is steady and secure, whether I am working or resting, succeeding or struggling. It’s God’s grace that defines me, not my performance.

Lie #2: Everything Depends on Me

Busyness often hides fear. Many of us believe that if we stop, everything will fall apart—the job, the household, the ministry, the future. This anxiety fuels endless striving. We may not say it out loud, but our pace of life reveals what we believe: “If I don’t keep pushing, everything will collapse.”

Sabbath confronts that fear head-on. When we rest, we admit the truth: we are not holding the world together—God is. The sun still rises, the earth still spins, the church still grows, even when we are asleep. Rest is an act of trust, a way of saying: “God, You’ve got this. I can let go.”

This is why Sabbath is faith in action. It re-teaches our hearts that God is sovereign, not us. It builds the muscle of trust. And every time we step back, breathe, and let something remain unfinished, we proclaim with our lives: He is God, I am not.

What Rest Really Means

From the beginning, God wove rest into creation. On the seventh day, He stopped—not out of weariness, but to set a holy rhythm for His people. Later, He commanded Israel to keep the Sabbath as a covenant sign (Exodus 20:8–11; Deuteronomy 5:12–15).

Sabbath wasn’t simply a day off work—it was a declaration of freedom: “We are not slaves. We belong to the Lord.” In Egypt, the Israelites had no rest. But in covenant with God, rest became their birthright.

Sabbath is an act of faith—it lets go of my striving and embraces God’s full work in my life and in the world around me. It’s more than a nap or zoning out. It is ceasing from ordinary labor to delight in God’s presence, enjoy His gifts, and trust His provision. It is both physical renewal and spiritual reorientation.

Jesus and the Sabbath

Jesus honored the Sabbath, but He also revealed its true purpose. When the Pharisees accused Him of breaking the law, He said: “The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath” (Mark 2:27). In other words, rest was given as a gift, not a burden. That’s why He healed on the Sabbath—because real rest is about wholeness, not rule-keeping.

Then He said something even more radical: “The Son of Man is Lord of the Sabbath” (Mark 2:28). In that moment, Jesus claimed authority over the Sabbath itself. He wasn’t just reforming a practice—He was declaring that rest is ultimately found in Him.

The Great Invitation

When Jesus says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28), He is offering what Sabbath was always pointing toward. The weekly Sabbath was never the end—it was a signpost, pointing to the deeper rest only He can give.

In Christ, we enter a greater rest. Not just a day off, but a whole new way of living. It’s a rest that frees our souls from striving, loosens the grip of anxiety, and anchors our identity in His finished work instead of our unfinished tasks.

The writer of Hebrews captures this: “So then, there remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God, for whoever has entered God’s rest has also rested from his works as God did from His” (Hebrews 4:9–10). In Jesus, we taste that eternal rest now, and one day we will know it in full.

Every time we pause, every time we release control, every time we sit still before Him, we rehearse for eternity—when all striving will cease and every heart will be at peace in Him.

Conclusion to "A New Kind of Discipline" series:

The disciplines we’ve walked through this summer are not just ancient practices—they are the way of Jesus. In a century defined by hurry, noise, and self-reliance, we need more than quick fixes or shallow faith.

We need the intentional rhythms that shaped the life of Christ. He was compassionate. He forgave. He lamented. He discerned. He humbled Himself. He rested. Each discipline is a way of slowing down, turning our hearts toward the Father, and allowing the Spirit to reshape us from the inside out.

If the church is to be salt and light in the 21st century, it will not be through louder voices or flashier programs, but through lives quietly and faithfully patterned after Jesus.

These practices are not burdens—they are gifts. They teach us to live as beloved children, to embody His presence in the world, and to offer a weary generation the hope of a different way.

Benediction

May you walk in the way of Jesus,

not rushed by the world but rooted in His Spirit.

May the disciplines of grace, humility, forgiveness, discernment,

kindness, contentment, lament, thinking, and rest

shape you into His likeness.

And as you live these practices with intention,

may your life become a quiet testimony—

a reminder to the world that Jesus is still here,

still working, and still enough.

Go in His peace,

and may you embrace a new kind of discipline,

for the sake of His kingdom.