I'm Tired of Hating Sundays

Week 1

Today is my first day of “keeping the Sabbath.” It seemed really strange to wake up and know that my schedule was completely blank. I bustled around looking for coffee and was rummaging furiously in my cupboards when the realization washed over me that I was hurrying for nothing. I decided to practice slowing down, so I made coffee slowly. As I write, the apartment is quiet, and all I can hear is the bubbling and hissing of the coffee pot as the murky brown liquid I have come to depend on pours out. I sit by the window and look outside for a long time as I sip my drink slowly. Not quite the Folgers morning; but definitely pleasant.

The fact that I am enjoying a quiet morning seems less a sign of my love for discipline and quiet and more a sign of desperation. . . . So tired of hating Sunday evenings, which are packed with the unfinished work of the previous week and the work due for the upcoming week. Aside from worship, the only emotions connected with Sunday and my work are dread and anxiety. Also feel incredibly torn by the multiple responsibilities within I-V, school and job. . . . Had a conversation with Jill, my staffworker, who said that she would take an entire day every week to stop work. She would work extra hard to finish all she needed to the previous week and would luxuriate in this one day. Ironically my desk is cluttered with my Palm, Franklin planner and a book on procrastination. Right now, my taking a day off from everything each week feels less spiritual and more pragmatic.

* * * * *

A “retreat of silence” seemed like a logical thing to do, since that’s what Jill did. Decided to sit in silence in an effort to calm myself down and listen. A few curious observations. One: I feel relieved, guilty and worried at the same time. Relieved because I have nothing much to do today, guilty because I feel like I ought to be working and doing and producing and worrying about all the things that are due next week. Two: A theological debate rages in my head. One side is excited by this new step of taking a whole day as a Sabbath, and the other chastises me for not using my time wisely to steward the tasks God has put on my plate. I’ve just spent at least a half hour distracted by this inner boxing match and have decided that I’m getting too tired to play the referee.

* * * * *

Prayer seemed like a good idea. Picked up an idea from some spiritual discipline book (that I never finished) that it was a good idea to pray through your guilt and anxieties when trying to connect with God, rather than set them aside as distractions. So I tried to pray through all the anxieties and guilt that seemed to bubble up, not unlike the coffee pot gurgling in fits and starts. Prayed through my midterms and the paper due next week, fear of letting down my professor who I think likes me, whether I can really work those extra hours my boss wants me to, fear of saying no, my future issues and finally the gnawing feeling that God somehow is never happy with me and that I am not measuring up.

Hmmm. As I write this I am struck by how much my guilt is shaped by the expectations of others. I half expect the phone to ring with some one reminding me of a forgotten promise that I was rash enough to make. I realize that most of my week is spent madly trying to satisfy some demand or another—I-V, school, work. Where does my choice end and the expectations of someone else begin? I am not able to see myself and my initiative in all this. Feels like I am being carried along by waves of others’ expectations. I sincerely want to feel like I have the ability to make choices instead of feeling like a victim of circumstance.

* * * * *

Decided to read through the story of Mary and Martha. Initially felt like I was having a clichéd retreat moment; however I do feel touched by Jesus’ words that only “one thing is needed”—to sit at his feet. That phrase seemed to strengthen me and to still some of the weariness and despair over expectations of others that I have left unmet.

* * * * *

The coffee hour was relaxing, the prayer seemed revealing, the Bible study was insightful. I am at the end of the day writing this and somehow I face the realism that my unfinished projects still remain, and my Sabbath hasn’t magically taken care of my work.

Week 2

Studying Genesis 1 in small group this week. Lucy the know-it-all, belligerent religious studies major actually had something helpful to say. Apparently the Enuma Elish, a Babylonian creation document, asserts that the gods didn’t want to toil so they created humanity to do the work for them. So Genesis 1 is counter-cultural in that God works and invites humanity into his work. I feel more Babylonian than biblical! Had an interesting discussion with her on the difference between rest and “fun.” I think I’ve been having “fun” on weekends as a way to escape from work, almost as a right I have earned to have a good time because I had a rigorous work week. Felt like the conversation melted the ice between us.

* * * * *

Was invited to go to a matinee today with Seth, Matt, Ko, Trease and Anna. Decided not to go as a result of some of these thoughts.

Took the same silent time as last week. Had a hard time concentrating—I felt like I was missing out on a good time that my friends were having while I was cramped in my room. Prayed through my essential heart conviction that work is “bad” and the ways I am confusing rest and fun.

Might join them for dinner later this evening.

Week 3

I’ve spent the past week aware of the way I am shaped by the expectations of others. The time I could have used to finish my paper last weekend, I spent “Sabbathing,” hence turned in a lower-quality paper, which got me a lower grade with the professor who I think likes me. He wrote a short note saying that he expected better quality work from me. I have been in a funk ever since. A cartoon version of my life would have me with the telltale black cloud hovering over my head with mini lightning flashes. I’ve disappointed my favorite professor! Of course the grouchiness has rubbed off into my relationships with friends. I find I’m waving aside their well-meaning efforts to cheer me up since I’m determined to celebrate my sense of failure. It didn’t take long for me to jump from the conclusion that I wasn’t just a failure at writing papers, but also a failure with life and a failure with God. Nothing could remedy that downward spiral better than some good ol’ self-pity and instant gratification. I’m upset with God that although I gave him my time, I don’t necessarily feel helped! I’ve been walking around cynically muttering, “One thing is needed. . . .”

I don’t feel like keeping the Sabbath today. I still have a busy week ahead of me and the foul mood of this last week hasn’t helped. The prospect of silence seems gloomy and uninviting.

* * * * *

Feeling listless at best, I’ve decided that I need to figure out why I am feeling this way and why it’s important. How can this Sabbath-keeping thing—the silence, the seemingly non-productive rest, the waiting and listening—help my wounded ego? I am slightly ashamed of letting one incident color my entire week like this. Turned on the TV all day and stuffed myself with pizza. Feeling totally useless and unproductive.

Week 4

Saw and talked to Geoff after church last week. He has been apparently keeping the Sabbath for years. We had coffee in the middle of the week and he pointed me to two Scriptures in Exodus and Deuteronomy. According to him, every time these key invitations to the Sabbath are made, Scripture points to a great work of God. The first time it refers to the finished work of creation and the second time to the finished work of redemption. He pointed out that our Sabbath rest hinges on those two great works of love toward us. He encouraged me to spend the next Sabbath (today) thinking through where I drew my identity and value from—from what I did or from what God has done for me.

This is my fourth week wrestling through these issues. Takes a while.

* * * * *

I spent my retreat of silence considering the fact that my deepest definition comes from God’s work toward me and not necessarily my own work. But I’m skilled at both people-pleasing and perfectionism; my significance comes from my ability to make people happy or make things perfect. I often succeed in creating the illusion that I can do both and am shattered when the illusion gives way. If what Geoff says about the Sabbath is true, then whether I failed at my paper or not, I was already defined at a core level, not by my ability to be a good student but rather by the fact that God created me in love and redeemed me in love. So no matter how I do in school, I am created and redeemed in love.

I just made a list of all the ways in which I try to define myself. It feels like I am always trying to be the dutiful son who brings home the good grades, trying to be the model I-V leader at every meeting and being the good friend who is always available no matter what his friends need. I’m seeing that my context defines me! I’ve been playing these roles, but up to now hadn’t seen the common thread that runs between all of these. Who am I? Am I primarily the faithful son, the faithful friend or the faithful I-V member? It seems like all these are ways that I have been letting what I do define me, rather than letting who I am shape my involvement.

* * * * *

Spent the rest of the time explaining some of this to the Lord—okay, confessing, to be more honest, in the literal sense of “agreeing with”—and asked him to help me understand that no matter what happened in these circumstances, I was beloved because my identity rests on what he did for me and not what I do.

I feel like some of that damaged sense of worth from letting my professor down has been restored. God felt near, still feels near. I could linger in the silence with God a little bit longer than the first time, and it was a good time, like “wasting time” with a friend, but not at all a waste.

* * * * *

Looking over my journal, I realize I never expected to deal with questions of identity in keeping the Sabbath. Always thought the Sabbath was just a fancy word for an extended quiet time. I am jotting down two questions that I want to be challenged by during the next few weeks: (1) Am I taking time to receive God’s love? and (2) Am I gaining my self worth from the loving, finished work of God toward me or from my own unfinished work?

It seems like the Sabbath might be a practical way to continue creating space to explore both questions.

Ram Sridharan volunteers with InterVarsity at College of Wooster and The Ohio State University. He is also an oblate novice at a Benedictine monastery. (No, it doesn’t mean a chunky new friar. An oblate is a lay person exploring the spiritual life of a religious community.) Ram hopes to enrich his understanding of the Sabbath by doing so.