“On the Sabbath they rested, according to the commandment.”

This verse is so ordinary, so mundane. It could be found anywhere in scripture. It could be applied to any of our lives.

But on this resurrection morning, during a pandemic, when life fees so extraordinarily unusual, I read it in the middle of the passion story. Ordinary in the middle of super extraordinary. (Luke 23:56b) These women went to see where Jesus had been laid. They had just watched him die a gruesome, horrible death. They watched him be forsaken by God, rejected by friends, betrayed by his enemies and tortured by those in control. They went and saw where he was laid. There was so much to be done and, at the same time, nothing to do. In our striving we do what we think can. (They went to prepare spices and ointments – what do I do?) But in the face of death, there is nothing we can do. We are powerless.

What did these women do next?

“On the Sabbath they rested, according to the commandment.” They obeyed the commandment. Just a few days before all of these events, they were celebrating the high holy day of Passover with those they most cherished all together. And in the midst of the celebration the disciples had heard Jesus teach that “if you love me, you will keep my commandments.” John 14:15

And so, they did what they always did. They rested on the Sabbath according to the commandment.

And while they rested in ordinary obedience and thereby showed their love to God, what was God doing?

He was preparing to do the most extraordinary act of love. He was about to turn the world upside down. He was getting ready to defeat that last enemy – Death.

And so, when we struggle with the chaos and despair of situations that are beyond our control, and when we are relegated to ordinary obedience in the mundane, we can remember the promise that comes on the third day.

“For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death.” 1 Cor. 15:25-26

God is working. God is moving. He is King.

Photo by Pro Church Media on Unsplash

Genesis Chapter 19, where we find the infamous Sodom and Gomorrah. But here we also see a story of grace and ingratitude.

Lot had already been physically grabbed by two angels to save him from the mob of men from Sodom who were threatening him. These men were struck with blindness so they couldn’t find the door. Lot rushes out to try to convince his sons-in-law to flee the city with him before judgement comes. They decline, thinking he is jesting. So with urgency, the angels implore Lot to gather his wife and daughters and flee the city. And this is where we find this text- but he lingered. Why? Did he mourn over the city? Did he long for his sons-in-law to come with him? Did he regret the need to leave his comfortable place? Did he doubt that God was going to destroy the city? But he lingered.

How often do I linger over sin? Do I settle in and get comfortable with it? In the face of commands from Scripture, and even physical evidence of the folly of continuing to dwell there, I stay, contemplating the different choices as if they were valid options.

Then the angels seized him and his wife and daughters and pulled them to safety outside the city, “the Lord being merciful.” Again, why? Why did the Lord show him mercy? He certainly didn’t seem to want it. He wanted to remain in Sodom. The answer is just a few verses later:

“So it was that, when God destroyed the cities of the valley, God remembered Abraham and sent Lot out of the midst of the overthrow when he overthrew the cities in which Lot had lived.”
‭‭Genesis‬ ‭19:29‬

God spared Lot for the sake of Abraham. And I, too, am saved for the sake of another. God, in his justice, should condemn me to the same punishment for my sin as he punished Sodom and Gomorrah, and so many others that we see in the Old Testament. But for the sake of another, Jesus Christ, the Righteous, he has saved me, despite my lingering in my sin. He has plucked me up and set me on solid ground.

Lord, like Lot, I am fearful and sometimes unwilling. I long for the comfortable and the familiar. But, Father, with your strength and by your Spirit, may I joyfully obey and unlike Lot, may I not be driven by comfort or fear, but rather walk in your commands without hesitation. Cause me to hate sin rather than dwell with it.

The other morning on my pre-dawn walk, I noticed a scene that looked like something my daughter would call Zombie Weather, foggy and misty. It was cold and damp and soaked into my bones. Gloomy is what it was. It kind of mirrored my mindset. I was frustrated that morning wanting things to be different, wanting something that wasn’t forthcoming, wanting relief, wanting the ache to go away. I could rush out into that mist and scream and wave my arms and threaten and do any manner of irrational things, but none of that would disperse the fog. I had absolutely no control over either the fog of the morning or over the circumstances in my life causing my inner gloom. So I trudged forward, putting one foot in front of the other.

In God’s providence at that moment, I turned a corner and stood flabbergasted as the rising sun peeked out as it came up over the horizon. It filled my soul with gladness as I remembered that Jeremiah’s doxology to God’s mercies that are new every morning  (Lam 3:22-23) is placed in the middle of a book which is filled with pain and confusion. I remembered Asaph, who penned Psalm 73 and when filled with confusion about the apparent success of the evildoers around him said, “But when I thought how to understand this, it seemed to me a wearisome task, UNTIL I went into the sanctuary of God; then I discerned their end.” (verse 16-17 emphasis mine)

Our perspective can be so flawed and fuzzy. It’s only in the light of the promises of God – based on His steadfast love and faithfulness and grounded in His goodness – that the fog clears and the dawn shines forth.