This summer, I was able to take several months for a time of sabbatical rest. We walk alongside people who have experienced forced displacement, who have survived trauma and injustice, and who continue to struggle as they build new lives for themselves in the twin cities. It is too easy for us to grow weary, to give in to discouragement or apathy. We must take time to rest. We also need God to heal and restore us.

“Now to him, who through the power at work within us is able to accomplish far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be the glory in the church and Christ Jesus, to all generations, Amen." -Ephesians 3:20-21

How to describe the experience of Sabbatical? It was sheer gift. It was… uncomfortable. I am grateful.

Here are some excerpts from my sabbatical journal, to give you a sense of this wild ride.

May 24

The first part of my sabbatical was all joy. Here’s a poem I wrote on day 4, after a gentle day in the garden.

The Kingdom of God is Among You

When you rise from your rest

to tend the soil,

to kneel among the

flowering weeds and

worship in company of earthworms;

when you receive the breath of

the storm that wakens the song

of maples; when you

take it into your lungs and

open wide your arms in

amen; when the gloaming

lies you down in the grass

as the sky processes its

subtle liturgical banners

and the bats dance as it

was in the beginning — then

you will no longer chase

after goodness, go looking for mercy

for surely, surely

they have followed you here.

June 10

While I was feeling so good, I tried to take some intentional time to grieve the pain and fear involved in my work. That part… didn’t feel so good.

I signed up for this work to help people… I wanted to nurture this place of safety and hope where they could put down their burdens and be healed up good.

But half of my fellow citizens either hate these dear ones or do not care what happens to them, and they have sent a war machine against them.

And I can’t protect them. Or only can in the flimsiest of ways. I can’t fight a war machine and win.

All around are thousands of people suffering profoundly. And what I can do, with all my leadership prowess, with my full-time labor, with my worn-down heart and the financial donations we receive each year, is to make sure that 14 of them are not homeless or hungry or alone while they go through it.

God, help us. Heal those who can accept or create this suffering.

And help me to take courage during this interlude and come back with a right understanding of my place in this story. Help.

August 2

On my last day before returning to work, I worried about whether I could balance the rest I need and the work I’m called to. Here are God’s words to me:

You are now walking my green path, between the good forests of passion and trustful rest. Your passion I have given you; so too your rest. You need them both. You now pick up your cross from a place of rest. You pick it up and it will be light for you - because of my power in you, at work for your good, calling you into this work because I love you. My burden is both costly and light, both heart-rending and joyful, demanding everything and providing everything. I promise you: stay close to me, and you will not be overwhelmed. Stay close to me and you will never be bored. My dear one, I love you too much for either.

I come back with a stronger-than-ever commitment to steward the spiritual life of Jonathan House through personal and team prayer. Our work is not going to get any easier or less painful in the season to come, and neither are the limitations we all face as humans. I'm convinced that we can sustain joy and labor through both by drawing daily water from God’s deep well.

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