Physical Refreshment through Rest
Introduction
You need physical refreshment that comes through rest.
No man can always work with the same intense activity. I do not believe that God intended that any man should do so; rest is a necessity of feebleness. Look at nature. How active it is in the spring! How the buds leap into verdure! Observe how active all things are in summer! But nature begins to relax somewhat of its vigor as autumn bronzes the leaves of the forest, while in winter vegetation sleeps, and the sap, instead of circulating rapidly through the tree, retires into the center and slumbers for awhile.
Yet who shall say that the months of winter are wasted? No, during the winter months the vegetable world is gathering needed strength for another spring, and summer, and autumn.
So it is with Christian men at times. They have their winters when the sap is driven to the center, when the spiritual life exercises itself rather about its own self than about anything outward, when the man’s care is rather about whether he himself is saved, whether his own spirit is in a flourishing state, than about the souls of others. Well, if the God of nature has so decreed it, so must it be.
Respect other people’s needs for refreshment through rest.
Rest is not...
You have heard, perhaps, of the very pious man who entered a monastery in order that he might spend all his time in devotion. When the time came for the brothers to go into the fields to work, he did not leave his cell. He was too spiritual to handle a hoe or a spade, so he continued in communion with angels. He was very much surprised, however, when the time came for the brotherhood to assemble in the refectory, that he was not called. After waiting until the demands of hunger overcame the claims of his spiritual being, he went to the prior and asked why he had not been called to the meal, and he was informed that, as he was to not work, it was thought that he was probably so spiritual that he could not eat. At any rate, the laws of the monastery did not permit him to eat until he had earned what he needed.
Rest
In the back corner of my yard, partitioned by a rose bed and a 40-year-old lilac bush, rests a pile, 8 feet long, 4 feet wide, and 4 feet high—my compost pile. Old-fashioned chicken wire stapled to well-anchored stakes holds it in place. Into it I toss every bit of yard scrap and a heavy dose of kitchen scrap … a bit of lime now and then, a good dose of dog droppings, and an occasional handful of fertilizer.
The compost pile burns hot, never smells, and each October yields about 70 bushels of fine black dirt, dark as midnight, moist and flaky, that I spread in the garden.… Gardeners call it “black gold.”—… It nurtures 80 roses and a half-dozen beds of perennials and annuals …
Could it be that what nourishes my plants nourishes me?
Timmerman compares his compost soil, which grows rich and fertile as it sits for months, to his life and the need of his soul for rest. Daily life hands us all kinds of things—good and bad—scraps, lime, and even “dog droppings.” But as we take sabbath rest, these things are transformed. Godly rest can turn the difficulties of daily life into a rich resource for spiritual fruitfulness.
Years ago, I read about a railroad that conducted an experiment. It purchased two new locomotives. One was kept in constant service, regardless of Sunday. In the use of the other, late each Saturday they pulled its fire and released the steam. On Sunday it was allowed to cool down, thus re-tempering its metal. Then it was fired up again on Monday. Over the years they found that they had less maintenance and trouble with the latter than with the former. If rest one day each week so benefited a piece of machinery, how much more does the fragile, delicate human body and spirit need it!