If we pay close attention, we might be able to feel it--the rhythm that is there in creation. The setting and rising of the sun, the stages of the moon, the passing of the seasons.

I have often thought about how tuned in we were to those rhythms and cycles in my childhood on the farm there in south-central Missouri. I'm really not that old, but when I was a little girl, my parents still farmed with horses. There were no headlights on the harnesses. When it got dark, the work had to stop. And of course, our life changed with the seasons.

As we had more hours of sunlight in the spring, our workday became longer--planting, putting up hay, harvesting the grain. The long, hot summer days were sometimes punctuated by rain that made it impossible to bale hay or combine wheat. Sometimes those days meant doing work that was not routine--like rearranging the tools in the shop or cleaning out our dresser drawers. But for my father it also usually meant a long nap, and for my brothers and sister and me, an endless game of Monopoly. And winter was quite different. There were still the daily chores. The cows had to be milked, the chickens fed and the eggs gathered, but the work was not so hard or intense. The animals had to be cared for, but the rest we just let be.

I don't want to romanticize what was in many respects a difficult life on that rocky, hilly land at the edge of the Ozarks, but we surely did feel in our beings the rhythms and cycles of creation. My life isn't much like that now. I can, if I choose, turn on the lights, plug in the computer, and work any hour of the day or night--even for 24 hours straight if I want. I can go shopping at Wal-Mart in Valparaiso anytime, any day, all year. My home, my workplace, and my car are all temperature controlled with air conditioning and heating so that I need not be affected much by the change of seasons. I have for the most part lost the feel of the natural rhythms of day and night, seedtime and harvest, work and rest.

Perhaps in some way you can identify also with that loss, with the physical and mental exhaustion or even burnout that can result when we ignore those rhythms. Perhaps you, like me, sometimes also know the dangerous spiritual ground we can tread when we forget how we were created. When we lose the feel for those rhythms, we can be tempted to think that we hold the whole world in our hands (well, at least some part of it), and that without us and our work it would all fall apart. We can be tempted to forget that for everything there is a season, and think instead that we can have it all now--or at least can have whatever we want whenever we want it.

Sometimes, a "natural" disaster, like a flood, or a tornado, or a blizzard; or a personal or family tragedy, like the loss of a job, a serious illness, or an untimely death, forces us to stop, to look again at who we are, who God is, and what is really important.

Sabbath is an invitation to do that without being forced, and to do it regularly. Someone has pointed out that the week, the seven-day cycle, is not one that we can readily see in nature like days or months (moonths they were first called) or years. (Although I did read once that some scientists thought they had discovered seven-day cycles in some plants and animals. Even if that is the case, it's not a rhythm that we can readily see). Instead the week, the seven-day cycle, requires that we count the days, that we are intentional, that we have a discipline.

By observing Sabbath, all of us are invited again into the rhythm of God's intention in creation. By observing Sabbath on Sunday, the day of Christ's resurrection, we are invited again to new life and love in Christ freely given to be shared.

Let us then keep the Sabbath. Let us rest. For some it may be rest sorely needed after arduous and wearing work or after work done out of sync, out of rhythm, so that we feel the exhaustion in our whole being. For some it may be rest that comes after work well done, and we rest filled with satisfaction and a sense of completion. For some it may be the rest that says, "It's in your hands now, God, at least for this while until I take up the burden again." Let us this day find some way to rest.

Let us keep the Sabbath. Let us reflect. In the slower pace of this day, in the beauty of nature, we may indeed find a time and space to remember and reflect on the rhythms of creation practiced or forgotten in our lives; on who we are, not God, but creatures made from the earth and having God's breath in us; on those things that are truly important to us; on the hope we have within us. Let us this day find some way to reflect.

Let us keep the Sabbath. Let us play. Some of us are better at this than others. Perhaps especially the children can help some of the rest of us if we need to learn to play again--to experience a carefree abandon, to be totally absorbed in the present moment, to have a sense of wonder and awe. Playing and praying are very much alike. Let us this day find some way to play.

Let us keep the Sabbath. Let us worship. Of course, our resting, our reflecting, our playing can also be worshipful and worship. In writing about prayer, H A. Williams (no relation) says,

Setting aside regular times for prayer doesn't of course mean that we are not always in communion with God, or that God may not make us aware of it at any time or place. But because in ... love God sometimes makes us wonderfully aware of (the divine) presence without our inviting, that is no reason for us to deny God the courtesy of being at home on regular occasions and opening the door." [H.A. Williams, The Simplicity of Prayer]

We might substitute the word worship for prayer. Our whole lives may well be worship, but we are also invited to praise and pray in intentional ways especially this Sabbath day--to give thanks, to make intercession, to receive the gifts of God's grace. Let us this day find some way to worship.

Let us then, pay attention to the rhythm, and keep the Sabbath in freedom and joy.

Amen.