Keeping the Sabbath

A sermon for Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church

2 February 2025

Luke 6.1-16

If I’m honest, arguments about Sabbath-keeping

            haven’t really been particularly significant

            in my personal understanding of Christian discipleship.

 

Growing up, Sunday always seemed less about rest and more about activity.

            At the age of 13, I took my first Sunday job,

                        starting with a morning paper round

                        and eventually moving on to working in the papershop itself.

 

            My Sundays began at 5 a.m.,

                        and I would rush straight from work

                        to church band practice before the morning service.

            Then there was afternoon Bible Study, the Evening Service,

                        and the after-church Evening Youth Group.

 

Sabbath rest?

            It wasn’t exactly top of my priorities.

 

Later, as a minister, ‘working’ on Sundays came with the territory,

            as it does for many professions:

                        healthcare workers, police officers,

                        farmers, and retail staff, just to name a few.

 

I suspect many of you can relate to the feeling that Sunday

            —rather than being a day of rest—

            is often one of the busiest days of the week.

 

For church members, Sundays are often filled with rotas,

            responsibilities, and commitments

            that leave little space for stopping and breathing.

 

I still remember the ‘Keep Sunday Special’ campaign of the late 1980s,

            when various Christian groups protested

            against proposals to allow shops to open on Sundays.

 

It was a heated debate, but most of the Christians I knew

            were quietly pleased they could finally pop to the supermarket

            on their way home from church.

 

It seemed practical considerations had triumphed over the call to rest.

 

However, I did encounter some Christians

            who took a more rigid approach to Sunday observance.

 

Friends in the Strict Baptist tradition would have no television, no work,

            and—intriguingly—no cooking on Sundays.

 

The wife, and yes, it was always the wife,

            would have to prepare the food by midnight on Saturday

            so it could simply be heated up on the Lord’s Day.

 

Their commitment was impressive,

            though I couldn’t help but wonder whether such strictness

            obscured the deeper intention of the Sabbath.

 

For most of us today,

            the idea of Sabbath has shifted dramatically from its roots.

 

The Jewish Sabbath, celebrated from Friday evening to Saturday evening,

            was a cornerstone of Jewish identity and faith.

 

Early Christians, many of whom were also Jewish,

            would observe the Sabbath on Saturday

            and then gather for worship on Sunday—the day of resurrection.

 

Over time, as Christianity moved from being a Jewish sect

            to a predominantly Gentile religion,

            the focus shifted entirely to Sunday.

 

By the time of Constantine in the fourth century,

            Sunday had become enshrined as both a day of worship and a day of rest.

 

But for the Pharisees of the first century,

            Sabbath keeping was a crucial marker of faithfulness to God

            in a world of Roman occupation and economic exploitation.

 

Their commitment to Sabbath was not about arbitrary rule-keeping;

            it was about resisting systems of oppression

            and affirming God’s sovereignty over human life.

 

But here’s the challenge:

            even the best traditions can lose their way.

 

When rules take precedence over compassion,

            or when rituals become rigid instead of life-giving,

the original intent of practices like Sabbath can be obscured.

 

This is the tension we see in today’s passage.

            Jesus doesn’t reject the Sabbath; he reclaims it.

 

He reminds his followers—and us—

            that God’s laws are always oriented toward flourishing, renewal, and life.

 

As we reflect on this text,

            I want us to consider what Sabbath might mean for us in 2025.

 

In a world that never seems to stop,

            where productivity is prized and rest feels indulgent,

            how can we reclaim the Sabbath as a gift of grace?

 

How might this ancient tradition speak into the rhythms of our lives,

            our church, and our city?

 

These are the questions I’d like us to explore together today.

---

Sabbath as Resistance

You see, Sabbath was never just a rule;

            it was a profound act of resistance.

 

In the ancient world,

            where economies operated on relentless cycles of productivity,

the concept of Sabbath stood out

            as a defiant proclamation that human beings are not defined by their labour.

 

The command to rest on the seventh day

            wasn’t simply a spiritual discipline;

            it was an economic and social disruption.

 

It declared that the value of a person

            lies not in what they produce

            but in their inherent dignity as children of God.

 

The Sabbath commandment found in the Ten Commandments

            is grounded in two key stories: creation and liberation.

 

In Exodus 20, Sabbath is rooted in the rhythm of creation.

            Just as God rested on the seventh day,

                        so humanity is called to rest

                        and reflect on the goodness of God’s provision.

 

But in Deuteronomy 5, the emphasis shifts to liberation.

            The people of Israel are reminded that they were once slaves in Egypt,

                        where their worth was measured

                        solely by their ability to produce bricks for Pharaoh.

 

Sabbath, then, becomes a weekly reminder

            that they are no longer slaves.

 

It is a gift of freedom, a declaration that their lives belong to God,

            not to oppressive systems.

 

This liberating vision of Sabbath was deeply countercultural.

 

In a world where the wealthy landowners

            exploited their workers relentlessly,

insisting on a day of rest was an act of rebellion.

 

It disrupted the economic norms of the day,

            offering a foretaste of God’s kingdom where all people

                        —regardless of status—

            could experience rest and renewal.

 

And yet, as with all good things,

            the practice of Sabbath could be co-opted.

 

By the time of Jesus, the Pharisees

            —in their zeal to preserve this sacred tradition—

had developed detailed rules

            about what could and couldn’t be done on the Sabbath.

 

Their intentions were noble;

            they sought to protect a practice

            that had been integral to Jewish identity for centuries.

 

But over time, these rules became burdensome,

            especially for the poor and marginalized,

who found themselves hemmed in by regulations

            that prioritized form over substance.

 

Jesus’ actions in Luke 6 challenge this distortion.

 

By allowing his disciples to pluck grain

            and by healing a man with a withered hand,

he reclaims the Sabbath’s original intent.

 

His question, “Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the Sabbath,

            to save life or to destroy it?”,

cuts to the heart of the matter.

 

The Sabbath is not about rigidly adhering to rules;

            it is about life—life in all its fullness.

 

In this way, Jesus reasserts the radical nature of Sabbath.

 

It is not a burden but a gift.

            It is not a restriction but a release.

It is not about exclusion but inclusion.

 

The Sabbath, as Jesus teaches it,

            is a space where the kingdom of God breaks through,

            bringing healing, restoration, and hope.

 

As we think about our own lives and context,

            we might ask: what would it mean to recover the Sabbath

            as an act of resistance today?

 

In a culture that glorifies busyness and equates rest with laziness,

            how might we embody a countercultural rhythm of rest and renewal?

 

And how can we ensure that our practices

            —both personal and communal—

            reflect the liberating, life-giving spirit of God’s kingdom?

 

These are not easy questions, but they are vital ones.

 

Today I want us to explore how Jesus’ vision of Sabbath

            challenges us to rethink our priorities, our traditions,

            and our understanding of what it means to live faithfully in a restless world.

 

Jesus: Lord of the Sabbath

When Jesus declares that he is “Lord of the Sabbath,”

            he is making an audacious claim

            —one that would have reverberated through his Jewish context.

 

To call himself Lord of the Sabbath is to claim authority

            over one of the most sacred institutions of Jewish life.

 

It is a statement not only about the Sabbath

            but also about who Jesus is.

 

He is positioning himself as the one

            through whom God’s purposes for the Sabbath are fulfilled.

 

At its heart, this declaration challenges us to reconsider

            how we view Jesus’ relationship with the law.

 

Jesus does not abolish the law; he fulfills it.

            He embodies its deepest intentions.

 

The Sabbath was always meant

            to point toward the restorative power of God

            —and in Jesus, that restoration comes to life.

 

The healings he performs on the Sabbath

            are not violations of the law;

they are manifestations of what the law was always meant to achieve:

            wholeness, healing, and flourishing.

 

In Luke 6, the healing of the man with the withered hand

            is a powerful example of this.

 

Jesus does not wait for another day to act.

            He sees the man’s need and responds immediately,

            restoring him to health.

 

This act is a living parable of the kingdom of God

            breaking into the present moment.

 

It reminds us that God’s priorities

            are not bound by human regulations or timetables.

Compassion and restoration take precedence over ritual.

 

By claiming lordship over the Sabbath,

            Jesus also redefines authority.

 

The Pharisees saw their role as guardians of the tradition,

            but Jesus challenges them to see that true authority

            comes from aligning with God’s purposes.

 

This alignment is not about rigid adherence to rules

            but about embodying the spirit of the law.

 

The Sabbath, as Jesus reveals, is not an end in itself;

            it is a means of encountering God’s grace.

 

For us today, this raises important questions.

 

How often do we allow traditions, however well-meaning,

            to become barriers to grace?

 

Do we, like the Pharisees, sometimes prioritise rules over relationships,

            or form over substance?

 

Jesus’ example calls us to constantly re-evaluate our practices,

            ensuring that they reflect God’s life-giving intentions.

 

Moreover, Jesus’ lordship over the Sabbath

            invites us into a deeper trust in God.

 

Sabbath is ultimately an act of faith.

 

It is a recognition that we are not defined by what we produce,

            and that the world will not fall apart if we stop and rest.

 

In a culture that often equates busyness with importance,

            embracing the Sabbath is a countercultural declaration

            of trust in God’s provision.

 

As we reflect on Jesus’ lordship over the Sabbath,

            let us remember that this is not just about

            what we do or don’t do on one day of the week.

 

It is about how we live every day.

            It is about aligning our lives with the rhythm of God’s grace,

                        seeking restoration for ourselves and others,

            and trusting in the sufficiency of God’s love.

 

In doing so, we honour the true spirit of the Sabbath

            and proclaim Jesus as Lord not only of the Sabbath but of our entire lives.

 

Reclaiming Our Rhythms

This idea of reclaiming Sabbath rhythms for our lives today may feel abstract,

            but it is profoundly practical.

 

In our fast-paced world,

            where productivity often takes precedence over well-being,

the concept of Sabbath challenges us to stop,

            to breathe, and to trust in God’s provision.

 

Reclaiming the rhythms of Sabbath means creating intentional spaces

            for rest, reflection, and renewal

            —not as an afterthought, but as an essential part of our discipleship.

 

For some, this might involve rethinking how we structure our time.

 

In a culture that rewards busyness and multitasking,

            we need to rediscover the sacredness of rest.

 

What would it look like to carve out moments in our week

            where we step away from work, social media, and endless to-do lists?

 

These pauses are not about escaping reality;

            they are about grounding ourselves in the presence of God,

            who invites us to be still and know that he is God.

 

But reclaiming Sabbath is not just about individual rest.

            It is also about communal rhythms.

 

As a church, how can we create spaces

            that reflect the restorative heart of the Sabbath?

 

This might mean reimagining how we gather for worship,

            ensuring that our services are not just another activity on a packed schedule

            but a genuine encounter with God’s grace.

 

It might also mean prioritising ministries

            that offer respite to those who are weary

—whether through hospitality, pastoral care,

            or advocacy for fair working conditions in our wider society.

 

At Bloomsbury, we are already taking steps in this direction.

 

Our "Breathing Space" gatherings, for example,

            are an opportunity to step away from the noise and busyness of life

            and enter into God’s rhythm of grace.

 

These times of intentional reflection remind us

            that deepening our spirituality is not about adding more to our plates

            but about creating room for God to move in and through us.

 

Reclaiming Sabbath rhythms

            also means challenging the systems that rob others of rest.

 

How can we, as a church, advocate for those

            whose lives are dominated by relentless work, exploitation, or anxiety?

 

The call to keep Sabbath is a call to seek justice

            —ensuring that everyone, not just the privileged,

            can experience the rest and renewal that God intends.

 

Ultimately, reclaiming our rhythms

            is about aligning our lives with God’s vision for the world.

 

It is about saying no to the relentless demands

            of a culture that equates worth with productivity

and yes to the abundant life that Jesus offers.

 

It is a radical act of trust in the God who provides, sustains, and renews.

 

And it is an invitation to participate in the in-breaking kingdom of God,

            where rest, restoration, and renewal are not luxuries

            but essential characteristics of life as it was meant to be.

 

The challenge of Sabbath today

            is not about adding another rule to follow

            or another item to check off our to-do list.

 

It is about reorienting our lives around God’s grace.

            It is about trusting that the world will not fall apart if we stop.

 

It is about creating space for God to work in us and through us,

            so that we can be renewed and restored for the work of God’s kingdom.

 

The Sabbath is not just a day;

            it is a posture of the heart.

 

It is a reminder that we are not slaves to the systems of this world

            but children of a God who loves us, sustains us, and calls us to rest.

 

May we rise to this challenge, embracing the gift of Sabbath

            and living into the abundant life that Jesus offers.

Amen.