Grace Across Borders: Biblical Lessons and Global Legends

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Hi, I’m Tameka, and welcome to Grace Across Borders.

This eight-week term, one of my classes has me deep in the book of Genesis, and revisiting the foundations of how it all began has been an eye-opener. Creation. Humanity. Sin. Promise. So many familiar stories, but somehow I’m seeing some of them with fresh eyes.

Then this morning on our prayer line, we started talking about the Sabbath, and the conversation stayed with me all day. Maybe Genesis is the reason it hit a little differently this time.

So, after finally finishing a paper that was already way overdue, exhausted and running on whatever little bit I have left, I decided to squeeze this blog out tonight.

And all I can say is, I really wish today was Friday so I could look forward to my Sabbath day’s rest tomorrow.

But it’s not.

So here goes. Enjoy.

Scripture: And Then God Rested

Genesis 1:1–2:3

“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.” — Genesis 1:1, KJV

That is where the Bible begins.

Before there was a Moses, an Abraham, an Israel, or even an Adam and Eve, there was God.

Genesis tells us that God began to bring order to what was “without form, and void.” He spoke light into the darkness and separated the light from the darkness. That was the first day.

Then came the heavens and the waters.

Then dry land appeared, and God covered the earth with grass, plants, and trees.

He placed lights in the heavens, the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night.

He filled the waters with living creatures and the sky with birds.

Then came the animals that would inhabit the land.

And finally, on the sixth day, God created humanity in His own image.

“And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.” — Genesis 1:31, KJV

Creation was complete.

But there was still one more day.

“Thus the heavens and the earth were finished, and all the host of them.

And God blessed the seventh day, and sanctified it: because that in it he had rested from all his work which God created and made.” — Genesis 2:1-3, KJV

God rested.

Not because God had run out of strength. Scripture describes Him as the everlasting God who “fainteth not, neither is weary” (Isaiah 40:28).

He stopped because the work was complete.

And notice what Genesis says about that seventh day: God blessed it and sanctified it. He set it apart.

That happened long before Moses stood on Mount Sinai and received the words, “Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy” (Exodus 20:8).

The rhythm was already there.

Six days of creation.

Then the seventh.

Rest.

Maybe that is why the word remember matters so much when we eventually get to Exodus. God was calling His people back to something He had already woven into the beginning.

Work has its place.

But so does stopping.

And perhaps that is something we still need to remember.

Folklore: Loosen the Bow

There is an old fable about Aesop that I don’t remember hearing as a child, but it caught my attention as I thought about rest.

The story says that Aesop, already an older man, was once playing with marbles among a group of boys. Another man saw him and laughed at him. Perhaps he thought a man of Aesop’s age and wisdom had better things to do than spend his time playing with children.

Aesop didn’t argue with him.

Instead, he placed an unstrung bow before the man and asked him if he understood why the bow had been left that way.

The man looked at it but couldn’t explain.

So Aesop told him.

A bow cannot remain tightly strung all the time. If it is kept constantly under tension, eventually it will weaken or break. But when the tension is released, the bow remains useful and ready for the next time it is needed.

The lesson was simple: even the strongest bow needs to be loosened.

And perhaps we do too.

Reflection: The Sabbath Was Never the Problem

Growing up in Jamaica, I cannot tell you that I always loved the Sabbath.

In fact, as a child, sometimes it felt like Sabbath came at the worst possible time.

The best cartoons seemed to come on Sabbath morning. The games the other children were playing, the things you wanted to do, the fun you thought you were missing, somehow it all seemed to wait until Saturday. And going to church was not a question in our house. We were going.

Then Sunday would come, and suddenly there were no good cartoons to watch. Many of the friends you wanted to play with were now getting dressed to go to their churches. I remember thinking how unfair the whole arrangement seemed.

But something happened once we actually got to church.

I was happy to be there.

Sabbath School began in the morning, and church could easily become an all-day affair. We brought lunch, or the church provided it. We brought snacks for the children. We worshiped, ate, talked, laughed, and simply spent time together.

There was a warmth about worshiping on the Sabbath that is difficult to explain unless you have experienced it.

I remember friends telling me about going to church for an hour or an hour and a half and then going straight home. That was so different from what I knew. At our church, nobody seemed to be in a hurry to get away from everybody else.

At the end of the service, the ushers would escort us out, and we looked forward to greeting whoever had brought the message that day. You shook their hand. You told them, “God bless you.” You might tell them how much you enjoyed the sermon.

And if you didn’t enjoy it quite as much, well, you found something kind to say and kept moving.

But you greeted one another. You hugged. You talked. You caught up. You lingered.

That was Sabbath.

Even getting home became part of the memory. I especially remember Brother Steer’s van, God rest his soul. Before we were grown and had vehicles of our own, so many of us would pile into the back of that van. We made room for one another because we knew it was a long walk to the bus stop, and nobody wanted somebody else to have to make that walk if there was room for one more.

Brother Steer would drive along dropping people off. He would leave us where we lived off Spanish Town Road and keep going, taking somebody else closer to home.

It is funny what you remember when you get older.

As a child, I remember thinking about the cartoons I was missing. As an adult, I remember Brother Steer’s van.

I remember the lunches.

I remember the hugs.

I remember shaking hands at the church door.

I remember people making room for one another.

I remember community.

Maybe Sabbath was giving me something even while I was complaining about what it was taking away.

Maybe that is what I missed as a child. Genesis tells us that after six days of creating, God rested on the seventh. He blessed that day and set it apart. The Sabbath was a gift before I ever understood it as one.

People sometimes ask, “If you spend all day at church, how is that rest?”

Maybe Aesop’s bow helps me understand that a little better now. The bow did not have to be thrown away to rest. The tension simply had to be released.

Perhaps that is what Sabbath has become for me. It is the day when I can loosen the bow.

But somewhere along the way, I learned that rest does not always mean sleep.

Sometimes rest is simply putting down what occupies you for the other six days. It is stepping away from work, responsibilities, deadlines, errands, assignments, and all the things that convince us everything needs our attention right now.

Sometimes Sabbath rest looks like spending an entire day at church, surrounded by people you love, without thinking, I need to hurry home so I can get something done.

And sometimes, in this season of my life, it looks very different.

Since moving here, I have not been physically inside a church building on Sabbath as often as I would like. There are Sabbaths when I worship online from the comfort of my own bed. I listen to the service, worship with everyone from a distance, and when the service is finished, sometimes I simply roll over and go to sleep.

And you know what?

There is something beautiful about that too.

There is no guilt telling me I should get up and be productive. There is no list calling my name. I can simply rest.

When I am physically at church, I may spend the whole day there and never feel the need to sleep. When I am home, I may worship and then sleep for hours. Both have taught me something important:

Sabbath rest cannot be reduced to sleep.

Rest can be found in worship.

Rest can be found in fellowship.

Rest can be found around a table.

Rest can be found in laughter.

Rest can be found in making room in the back of a van for one more person.

And yes, sometimes rest can be found by rolling over after church and taking a really good Sabbath nap.

The Sabbath was never supposed to be a curse.

It was a blessing.

I did not understand that when I was the little girl wondering why all the good cartoons had to come on Saturday. Back then, I knew the commandment, but I don’t think I fully understood the gift.

And perhaps that is something we need to remember when we teach the next generation about Sabbath. Yes, teach them that God said, “Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy.” Teach them what it means to honor God with the seventh day.

But please, teach them the blessing too.

Because if all our children hear is what they cannot do, where they cannot go, what they cannot watch, and what they have to give up, we should not be surprised if they begin to see Sabbath as something they need to escape.

Help them see what God is giving them.

It took that little girl in Jamaica some growing up to see it. Genesis showed me that from the beginning, God made room for rest. Aesop’s little bow reminded me what happens when we never release the tension. And life has taught me that Sabbath is not something God was taking from me.

Sabbath was never stealing a day from me. God was setting one aside for me.

And maybe He has been setting one aside for you too.

If Sabbath has only ever sounded like a list of things you cannot do, I invite you to experience the gift for yourself.

Come, taste and see that the Lord is good.

There is worship here. There is community here. There is rest here.

There is grace in the pause.