“Why can’t you just be still?”

That’s the question many of us have asked—usually with clenched teeth and a rising sense of public embarrassment—as our kids squirm in church pews, doctor’s offices, classrooms, or grocery aisles. Some others of us don’t get frustrated when our kids act crazy…and honestly, we probably should (but that’s beside the point).

Whether we’re the ones who’ve said it or had it said to us, we all know those words of correction:

Can’t you just be still?

And there’s a moment that comes for all of us, usually late at night, when the house finally goes quiet. The emails stop and the kids are finally asleep. Our day has finally come to an end.

And that’s when we realize something unsettling. We don’t really know how to be still either.

Our bodies stop moving, but our minds don’t. Our thoughts race, anxiety creeps in, and the silence begins to feel heavier than we can stand.

So…we distract ourselves.

We reach for our phones and scroll mindlessly through Instagram and TikTok. We browse Netflix for an hour and never actually watch anything. Believe it or not, we even spiritualize our distraction by reading Scripture or listening to sermons.

Ultimately, our bent is to look for something—anything—to keep us from sitting with our own thoughts.

And in those moments, we’re not resting. We’re numbing.

So, strangely enough, just like our kids, we have to ask ourselves the same question: Can’t you just be still?

Restless, Not Just Tired

We live in a culture that constantly tells us we’re exhausted—and to be fair, many of us actually are. But maybe the deeper truth is that we’re not just tired…we’re restless.

And if we’re honest, most of us don’t actually know how to rest at all. The uncomfortable truth most of us don’t want to deal with—you’re not that important.

We resist rest because it feels lazy. If we stop for even one day, we’re convinced everything will fall apart. Our jobs will suffer. The dishes will begin to stink in the sink. The laundry will pile up. The lawn will look like garbage—or, as things have been for me the last week, the snow will go unshoveled.

But the reality is that Sabbath reorients our souls to remember that God runs the world—not us.

Sabbath Exposes What We Believe

Most of us don’t need convincing that rest is a good idea. What we struggle with is actually stopping.

For some, stopping feels irresponsible. For others, pointless or impossible. And for even some others, unnecessary—because “Jesus is our rest,” right?

But Sabbath isn’t just a suggestion for better scheduling. It’s a confrontation with our assumptions. When God gives the command in Exodus 20, He begins with a word that implies we’ve already forgotten:

“Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.”

“Remember” assumes something has been forgotten.

Remember the Alamo. Remember to drink water. Remember to lock the door before bed. Remember, remember the fifth of November. Do you remember the 21st night of September?

Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.

Not the commandment—but we forget the actual Sabbath.

We forget the Sabbath every time we answer one more email. We forget it when the “Sunday scaries” keep in with Monday staring you in the face. We forget it when rest becomes productivity in disguise. We forget it when scrolling replaces delight.

Ultimately, we forget the Sabbath because we forget we are finite.

Limits aren’t a flaw—they’re a feature of being human. The world existed before us, and it will exist after us. And it doesn’t depend on our constant effort to keep spinning.

God roots Sabbath not in Sinai, but in creation itself.

And beneath our resistance to rest isn’t logistics—it’s trust. When we reuse to stop, what we’re really saying is, “If I don’t keep going, things will fall apart.“

Sabbath, though, invites us to answer the question:

Do I actually believe God is at work when I’m not?

Finished, Not Exhausted

God didn’t rest on the seventh day because He was tired. He rested because His work was finished. And Sabbath invites us into that same rest—not because our work is done, but because His is.

We often hear that Sabbath exists so we can “recharge and get back to working hard again.” But that’s nonsense. Sabbath isn’t productivity management—it’s freedom.

For Israel, freshly rescued from slavery, rest wasn’t about doing less. It was about no longer being defined by output. Brick quotas and endless labor had shaped their identity. God’s command to stop was an act of liberation.

Which is why “Sabbath,” as Walter Brueggemann says, “is an act of resistance.“

Every time we stop, we declare—whether we realize it or not—that Pharaoh (and, likewise for us, work) doesn’t get the final word over our lives.

Sabbath is Our Rivendell

I am an unashamed Lord of the Rings nerd…sue me (really, don’t though).

In Fellowship of the Ring, there’s a moment early in the story when Frodo is stabbed by a Morgul-blade by one of the Nazgûl. The world is unraveling, evil is advancing on Middle-earth, and the time feels short.

And yet, the journey stops—for months—in Rivendell.

But Rivendell wasn’t a delay in the mission. It’s where Frodo is restored, the Fellowship is formed, and the burden of the One Ring is no longer carried alone.

It’s probably an overstatement, but—Sabbath is our Rivendell.

It’s where wounds heal, where we remember the larger story of redemption, and where we’re reminded that the fate of the world doesn’t rest on our shoulders.

Relational Rest > Stale Obedience

Sabbath, though, isn’t an excuse for laziness. Scripture assumes six days of meaningful work and one day of rest. The problem isn’t work—it’s disordered work.

And many of us don’t rest, but just merely distract ourselves to death.

We collapse instead of cease. We numb instead of delight. We scroll instead of worship.

But Sabbath isn’t doing nothing. It’s about doing what restores our capacity to love God and others.

Which is why Sabbath often includes:

• Worshipping God with Others
• Enjoying Good food
• Unforced, Hearty Laughter
• Taking Walks
• Listening to Good Music
• Resting with a Nap
• Intimacy and Joy

But, Sabbath excludes striving, proving, earning, and performing. Jesus didn’t abolish Sabbath—He rescued it.

“The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.” (Mark 2:27)

Sabbath was never meant to burden us. Nor was it—counter-intuitively—about obedience, rules, and systems.

Sabbath was always meant to restore us.

Learning to Trust Again

Hebrews tells us that:

“There remains a Sabbath rest for the people of God…Let us therefore strive to enter that rest…” (Hebrews 4:9, 11)

Not because rest is work, but because rest doesn’t come naturally for the anxious, driven, distracted people like us.

Sabbath exposes the illusion that we’re in control. And that’s exactly why we need it. Jesus invites us not just to rest—but to trust Him in our rest. To trust Him not only with our salvation, but with the world itself.

To believe—really, truly believe—that the world will keep spinning, even if we stop for one day.

So maybe the question isn’t just one for our overstimulated, restless kids after all. Maybe God is gently asking us:

Can’t you just be still, and rest in Me?