Sabbath as a Container
By Mike Hotz, Spiritual Director.
Ah, the topic of Sabbath or holy rest—where we stop our regular work and worldly activities to rest, reflect, and connect with God. Among the practices and traditions shared by the Abrahamic religions, few seem able to evoke both deep longing and deep guilt like the practice of Sabbath rest.
And yet, we know—deep down—in our minds, bodies, and spirits that Sabbath rest is essential for our health, but it often remains elusive in our practices. For those of us with leadership responsibilities, it can feel like a “do what I say, not what I do” kind of guilt lesson.
For myself—and maybe you, too—there's an additional layer to my avoidance of slowing down: If I slow down, I might have to face something I don’t want to confront. It’s like driving down a gravel road. If I go fast enough, I won’t feel the bumps as much, but if I slow down, they become jarring and disruptive.
Slowing down can be scary when we're used to outrunning our inner pain or anxieties. But Sabbath is not just a pause—it’s a sacred pause, held in God's presence. It's not empty time; it can be time filled with grace. In that sacred space, we’re not alone with our fears—we’re with the God who says, “Be still and know that I am God” (Psalm 46:10). Sabbath can offer us a container safe enough to let the truth rise gently.
Sometimes, we keep busy to avoid what’s underneath: grief, guilt, unprocessed trauma, or doubt. Busyness numbs us, but Sabbath dismantles that illusion. It whispers: “You are loved not for what you accomplish, but simply because you are.” That grounding identity can give us the courage to face what we’ve been avoiding.
And yet, we don’t have to face everything all at once. Sabbath isn’t about solving or fixing—it’s about returning. Each week, the invitation comes again. As we build a rhythm of stopping and resting, we create capacity. Over time, what once felt unbearable may start to feel faceable.
When we slow down, our soul may speak in a voice we’ve long silenced. Sabbath is a time for listening. If lament comes, it is welcome. If confusion or fear shows up, they are welcome too. Sabbath doesn’t demand performance or resolution. It welcomes our whole selves and says, “You belong.”
Facing hard things isn’t something we do alone with willpower. Sabbath reminds us: God is already working. God is already holding. You don’t have to do it all. You just have to be present. That shift—from striving to abiding—creates space for grace.
“What if the things we’re afraid to face are actually the very places God wants to meet us—with healing, not condemnation?”
Sabbath gives us the time and space to find out.
