What Do You Do With Day Seven?

Laura Ingalls Wilder's account of her family's life in the midwestern United States was always one of my favorite things to read growing up. We didn't have the books themselves, but my grandmother did, and it became a highlight of my young life to visit my grandparents, where I would make a beeline to her bookshelf, pull out the first book in the series, plop myself down on their couch, and begin reading. If our family was staying for a few days, I could usually have the series finished by the time we left. And even though I had just finished the book for the millionth time, I would often ask to borrow the best installment: These Happy Golden Years.

In the first book of the series, Little House in the Big Woods, Laura brings forth the philosophical question we have wrestled with throughout the ages: What is Sabbath, and what does it mean? 

Laura despised Sundays, because it meant sitting on her chair and sewing, or listening to her Pa or Ma read from the Bible. Playtime was out of the question. One day, on a Sunday, she lost her temper, and snapped: "I hate Sundays!"

Her Pa sternly corrected her and told her a story of when his father was a boy. Their Sabbath rules were even more strict: no reading, no enjoyment of any kind. No fidgeting. No playtime. On this occasion that Pa told her about, his father (Laura's grandfather) and his two brothers had just finished building their own sled, and they couldn't wait to try it out. The problem was: they'd just finished it the night before and had had no opportunity to send it down the slopes before Sunday, so they had to wait a whole empty, boring, eternal Sabbath day to test their new creation. 

In the quietness and stillness of that Sunday afternoon, however, Laura's grandfather watched as his father fell asleep in his chair, and he and his two brothers sneaked out of the house. They all piled on their brand new sled and shoved off. They flew down the hill -- and straight into one of their pigs.

So all three boys and a terrified pig making an unearthly squeeeeeeeee racket flew by the house, and Laura's grandfather looked up to see his father standing in the doorway. 

The three boys returned soberly to the house, and later that evening, their father took them out to the woodshed for discipline.

This morning, I was reading in Exodus 31, where we find two characters -- only one of whom is mentioned anywhere else in the Bible (in a genealogy in 1 Chronicles 2:20). I haven't heard much about these guys. But they're important because they illustrate a good lesson. 

Bezalel means: "In the shadow and protection of God," and Oholiab means: "The (divine) Father is my Tabernacle." And Bezalel and Oholiab are skilled craftsmen. 

"Then the Lord said to Moses, 'See, I have chosen Bezalel son of Uri, the son of Hur (likely the guy who held up Moses' arms with Aaron during the battle against the Amalekites) of the tribe of Judah, and I have filled him with the Spirit of God, with skill, ability, and knowledge in all kinds of crafts -- to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver, and bronze, to cut and set stones, to work in wood, and to engage in all kinds of craftsmanship. Moreover, I have appointed Oholiab son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan, to help him. Also I have given skill to all the craftsmen to make everything I have commanded you: the Tent of Meeting, the Ark of the Testimony with the Atonement Cover on it, and all the other furnishings of the Tent -- the table and its articles, the pure gold lampstand and all its accessories, the altar of incense, the altar of burnt offering and all its utensils, the basin with its stand -- and also the woven garments, both the sacred garments for Aaron the priest and the garments for his sons when they serve as priests, and the anointing oil and fragrant incense for the Holy Place. They are to make them just as I commanded you" (Exodus 31:1-11).

I was joking with a friend yesterday about math and my loathing of anything to do with numbers. I said: "Math is not my spiritual gift!" I said it, tongue in cheek, with the intention of communicating -- through humor -- that I understood that the Lord works through the gifts of the Spirit: for instance, the five Spiritual gifts listed in Ephesians 4:11: "It was He Who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers..."

...And that He doesn't necessarily work through gifts of math and adding and subtracting numbers.

Then when I read this passage this morning, I heard the Spirit say: "Why are you limiting Me?"

Because Bezalel son of Uri was gifted by the Spirit with woodworking skill, with the ability to "make artistic designs for work in gold, silver, and bronze." And Oholiab son of Ahisamach is gifted to help him.

Why?

"I have given skill to all to craftsmen to make everything I have commanded you: The Tent of Meeting..."

The Tent of Meeting in this context is the very meeting place with God -- where the people met with God Himself.

Bezalel and Oholiab were not Peter, Paul, John... or later, George Wakefield, Charles Spurgeon, Billy Graham. They weren't given (that we are told) gifts of evangelism or apostleship. They may not have have a prophetic gifting, or -- gasp -- been able to speak in tongues as the Acts 2 church did.

But they were gifted by the Holy Spirit to carve wood and set stones and make priestly cloth...

And so they did...

For the purpose of creating a meeting place, a sanctuary, to fellowship with God. Because that's what the Tabernacle was: the Meeting Place with God.

So... in the second part of Genesis 31, God tells Moses: "You must observe my Sabbaths. This will be a sign between me and you for the generations to come, so you may know that I am the Lord, Who makes you holy" (Genesis 31:13). God wasn't messing around; He wasn't suggesting this. He wasn't saying: "You know, if you're tired, why don't you take a rest on Day 7? It's not a bad idea."

Look at the wording in Genesis 31:14-15: "Observe the Sabbath, because it is holy to you. Anyone who desecrates it must be put to death; whoever does any work on that day must be cut off from his people. For six days, work is to be done, but the seventh day is a Sabbath of rest, holy to the Lord. Whoever does any work on the Sabbath day must be put to death."

That seventh day has always been a sticky point with me, like it was with Laura. Balancing my too-heavy plate overflowing with too much to do (see my post from yesterday), I tilt my way into Sundays with divided attention: It's Sunday; I'm not supposed to work -- but also, if I get that done today, it's one less thing to do later.

On Sundays, the grass keeps growing and the laundry keeps stacking and the dishes keep dirtying, and it's just difficult to see how letting it all go -- is holy.

And here's where the Spirit did His work in my heart this morning: As I was staring at the page in my Bible, and my thoughts were pitching a royal fit about these instructions, He quietly said: Tamara, it's about the Tabernacle. It's about your Meeting Place with Me.

In other words: I have been looking at Sunday as an interruption. An inconvenience. A slice out of time I don't have to "rest," and in looking at it that way, I was not resting. I was not meeting with God.

God sets the precedent for Sabbath rest, right? In Genesis 1, He does a little thing -- you know, like creating an entire universe out of nothing, no biggie. In Genesis 2:2-3, it says: "By the seventh day, God had finished the work He had been doing, so on the seventh day He rested from all His work. And God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it He rested from all the work of creating that He had done."

This might be a stretch, but maybe, just maybe... God created what He did for the purpose of enjoying His creation. I know it's hard to believe, but what if... God used six whole days to make the seventh day amazing? Try to wrap your mind around this: What if God didn't think the seventh day was an interruption, but rather a looked-forward-to, much anticipated event where He. Meets. With. His. Beloved. People.?!!!

And reciprocally, what if we looked at that seventh day with the same anticipation?

You know, I don't necessarily think we need a list of do's and don'ts for Sunday: Thou shalt not build a sled and slide down a hill and pick up a pig on your way by. Thou shalt not do homework... dishes... laundry... car-washing... lawn-mowing...

What I do think is that if we anticipate Day Seven as the day we fully revel in our meeting with God, our walk in the cool of the Garden with Him (Genesis 3:8) -- all the rest of this will fall into place. That's when our priorities are in their proper order, and that's when work falls to the back burner, as it should.

Bezalel and Oholiab did all their work for the goal of the Meeting Place, their every straining muscle and artistic ability pushing out all other priorities as they made room for the Spirit of God to move in their work. Sunday through Friday they used their abilities for the purpose God had set in front of them, and then on Saturday, the Sabbath day, they met with God in the place He'd appointed.

I'm not going to debate whether Sunday or Saturday is the more appropriate "seventh" day -- or even a specifically chosen day, like Monday (I know many pastors who take Monday as their "day of rest") -- I don't think that's important, but if it is, I expect the Lord will show me in His own good time. I think He's more interested in showing me that there is a seventh day, and that all my energy, excitement, and anticipation should be focused on that uninterrupted, unmitigated excitement of walking with Him in it.

Does this mean I can't be excited the other six days? Of course not! 

But those other six days are the building blocks, the stairway to the seventh day.

Day 7 is not an interruption. It is a capstone. A pinnacle. An apex. It is the crowning achievement of the previous six days. 

So that's my goal: I want to make Day Seven an RSVP event, all engines go. He longs to meet us there, you know; He longs for fellowship with His creation, to walk and talk with us "in the cool of the day" (Genesis 3:8). 

Don't stand Him up.