Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the Sabbath. Not just as a word I’ve heard my whole life, but as something God actually meant for us to practice and protect. I’ll be honest — for most of my life, the Sabbath has just blended into the rest of the week. Another day. Another obligation. Another box to check.
But the more I slow down in my recovery and in my faith, the more I realize how much I need true rest. Not just physical rest, but spiritual rest. The kind of rest that reminds me I don’t have to earn God’s love, prove my worth, or stay busy to be valuable.
The Sabbath was never meant to be a burden. It was meant to be a gift. A pause. A reset. A reminder that God is in control — even when I stop.
I’m starting to feel a pull to learn more about what honoring the Sabbath really means. Not in a legalistic way, and not out of guilt, but out of desire. A desire to spend intentional time with God, to unplug from distractions, and to give my mind and body permission to rest.
For someone like me, rest doesn’t always come easy. My mind likes to race. My past likes to whisper. My instinct has always been to stay busy so I don’t have to feel. But I’m learning that God often speaks the clearest when things get quiet.
Honoring the Sabbath, for me, looks like slowing down and being present. It looks like prayer without rushing, reading Scripture without checking the clock, and choosing peace over productivity — even if it feels uncomfortable at first.
I don’t have all the answers yet, and I’m okay with that. This is something I want to read up on more, pray about more, and slowly build into my life. I believe God honors our willingness to grow, even when we’re still learning.
If you’re anything like me — tired, distracted, or always feeling like you need to do more — maybe the Sabbath is an invitation you’ve been overlooking too. An invitation to rest, reset, and remember who really holds it all together.
I’m grateful that God is patient with me, meets me where I am, and continues to teach me how to live in a healthier, more faithful way — one step, and one quiet moment, at a time.
Josh Bridges
YOU {R} NOT ALONE YOU HAVE A VOICE! 