Original Meaning

VARIOUS TERMS NEED to be explored in order to understand the Sabbath idea.1 In Genesis 2:2–3 only the verb šbt is used, and it is qualified both times with the phrase “from his work.” Exodus 20:11; 23:12; and 31:17 add the verbs npš (“refreshed”) and nwḥ (“rest”) as parallel terms. The latter also has a noun form, m^enuḥa (“rest”).

Lexicographers and commentators have reached a consensus that the Qal of the verb šbt means “to cease” rather than “to rest.” So, for example, in Joshua 5:12 the manna ceased once the food from the land became available, and Job’s friends ceased answering him in Job 32:1.

The other two verbs may be closer to the idea of resting, though both must be qualified. The verb nwḥ often carries the implication of taking up a position of safety, security, or stability. It can refer to settling down or settling in (note Ex. 10:14).2 The Hiphil form of the verb is often used for God’s settling Israel in the land (e.g., Josh. 1:15; 2 Sam. 7:1). When God is the subject of the verb in the Qal form (only in Ex. 20:11), it refers to the other side of the coin from šbt. The latter describes ceasing work; the former, settling into the world he has created. This element is also picked up in the noun form, m^enuḥa, which identifies a place of stability, security, and equilibrium. For Israel this is the land God has given them when it is free from enemies (cf. 1 Kings 8:56). For God, it is found in the temple (Ps. 132:14) or the larger cosmos (Isa. 66:1).

Both roots, šbt and nwḥ, move away from the all-too-common conception of rest as relaxation. It is the third verb, npš, that comes closest to that idea, but this verb is only used three times (Ex. 23:12; 31:17; 2 Sam. 16:14). Exodus 31:17 is the only occurrence in which God is the subject, and it does refer to the seventh day. The idea of refreshment is most likely, but the occurrences are too few to locate the nuance precisely.

In summary, the lexical information suggests that the seventh day is marked by God’s ceasing the work of the previous six days and by his settling into the stability of the cosmos he created, perhaps experiencing refreshment as he did so. By blessing it, he extends his favor to it.

Bridging Contexts

DOES THE SABBATH of Genesis 2 concern God as master of time, God as ruler of the cosmos, or both? Of the former it could be said with Brichto, “The Sabbath is a day. And a day is a unit of time. And time is what the Sabbath is all about.”3 The alternative can likewise be supported by truism: Divine rest is the principal function of a temple, and a temple is always where deity finds Sabbath rest, so the cosmos is God’s temple.

The time connection is supported in part by the literary structure of the narrative, where time dominates the ends and the middle (days one, four, seven).4 The cosmos connection is supported in part by the conceptual world of the ancient Near East, where creation, temple, and rest are inseparably linked.5 If time is the issue, the observance of the Sabbath represents setting aside time for God and acknowledging all time as his (Ps. 74:16).6 If cosmos is the issue, observance of the Sabbath represents setting aside the tyranny of the urgent and recapturing the stability and equilibrium that God established when he ordered the cosmos (Hab. 2:20). Before we can make the decision whether the Sabbath indicates that God is Master of time or the Founder of order, we must explore the theological and cultural basis for the latter.

Cosmos as temple. The face value of the account (i.e., that which is mutually understood by the biblical author and his contemporary audience) contains at least a strong undercurrent of God’s setting up a cosmos intended to function not only as an environment for the people he is creating, but even more as a sanctuary for himself. He furbishes it, puts people in it, and takes up his repose (Sabbath) in 1:1–2:3; then he sets up Eden along the lines of the Most Holy Place (see discussion in the next chapter). In order to demonstrate this, we will discuss the significance of “rest” both in creation and in temple typology, then consider the biblical evidence that draws the temple and cosmos together, and finally survey the ancient Near Eastern data that support the concept. As we do so, we will again benefit from both contextual and cultural support.

Rest is the main goal of creation. The functional cosmos is not set up with only people in mind. The cosmos is also intended to carry out a function related to God. On the seventh day we discover that God has been working to achieve a rest. This seventh day is not a theological appendix to the creation account, just to bring closure now that the main event of creating people has been reported. It intimates the purpose of creation and of the cosmos. God not only sets up the cosmos so that people will have a place; he also sets up the cosmos to serve as his temple. As Wenham observes, the creation of people may be the climax of the six days of work, but it is not the conclusion of the narrative. It is the seventh day that is blessed and sanctified, which suggests the significance of what happens there.7

The cosmos is portrayed as a temple complex in the Bible. Isaiah 66:1 expresses clearly the temple/cosmos function in biblical theology as it identifies heaven as God’s throne and earth as his footstool, providing a resting place for him. God likewise achieves rest on the seventh day of creation, just as he takes up rest in his temple (see below). As developed earlier, “rest” does not imply relaxation but more like achieving equilibrium and stability. The environment he creates is not intended to provide rest for the people he has created (though that becomes a significant piece of theology as time goes on).8 Rather, he is making a rest for himself, a rest provided for by the completed cosmos. Inhabiting his resting place is the equivalent to being enthroned—it is connected to taking up his role as sovereign ruler of the cosmos. The temple simply provides a symbolic reality for this concept. Psalm 104:2–4 captures this as the elements of the cosmos serve as functionaries for Yahweh’s rule.

The connections that underline the temple-cosmos relationship in Genesis 1–2 are numerous. In our discussion of day four we noted that the celestial bodies are referred to using the unusual term “lights,” which throughout the rest of the Pentateuch refers to the lights of the lampstand in the tabernacle. Note also that the idea of rivers flowing from the holy place is found both in Genesis 2 (which we will suggest portrays Eden as the Most Holy Place) and in Ezekiel’s temple (Ezek. 47:1). A third element is that when people are assigned their function in Genesis 2:15, priestly terms are used (see comments on ch. 2). The main connection, however, is the rest motif, for rest is the principal function of a temple, and a temple is always where deity finds rest.

The temple is constructed and viewed as a microcosmos in the Bible. Further contributing to this important concept is the fact that just as the cosmos is portrayed in temple terms, the temple is configured as a microcosmos.9 Yahweh is said to find repose in the temple in Psalm 132:13–14:

For the LORD has chosen Zion,

he has desired it for his dwelling:

“This is my resting place for ever and ever;

here I will sit enthroned, for I have desired it.”

Another biblical affirmation of the close relationship between temple and cosmos is seen in the way the completion of the tabernacle account echoes the language of Genesis 1. M. Fishbane credits M. Buber with the pertinent observation:

Indeed, as Martin Buber long ago noted, a series of key verbal parallels exists between the account of the creation of the world and the description of the building of the tabernacle in the desert (compare Genesis 1:31; 2:1; 2:2; 2:3 with Exodus 39:43; 39:32: 40:33; and 39:43, respectively). Thus, “Moses saw all the work” which the people “did” in constructing the tabernacle; “and Moses completed the work” and “blessed” the people for all their labors.

. . . Manifestly, then, the building of the tabernacle has been presented in the image of the creation of the world, and signified as an extension of a process begun at the creation.10

As another example, Exodus 40:34 declares that the glory (kabod) of the Lord filled the tabernacle, and 1 Kings 8:11 reiterates that for the temple. In Isaiah 6:3, the seraphim affirm in the same terms that the glory of the Lord fills the whole earth.11 Psalm 78:69 specifically states that the sanctuary was built like the heavens and earth. On the basis of such passages, Levenson concludes:

Texts describing the creation of the world and those describing the construction of a shrine are parallel. The Temple and the world stand in an intimate and intrinsic connection. The two projects cannot ultimately be distinguished or disengaged. Each recounts how God brought about an environment in which he can find “rest.”12

Rest in ancient Near East. In the ancient Near East one of the major objectives of the gods as they became involved in creative activity was to create a resting place for themselves. Whether this was a rest achieved when the monstrous forces of chaos were defeated or when a sanctuary was completed, the gods were constantly seeking repose. Just as Baal is portrayed as building a palace for himself to find rest in,13 so God creates a resting place for himself. In Enuma Elish, it is the absence of rest that leads to the confrontation. So Apsu complains to Tiamat concerning the lower gods:

Their ways have become very grievous to me,

By day I cannot rest [pašaḫu], by night I cannot sleep.

I shall abolish their ways and disperse them!

Let peace prevail, so that we can sleep.14

Having successfully defeated Tiamat, Marduk reorganizes the gods and the cosmos under his control and concludes by building Babylon, the sacred city.

We will make a shrine, which is to be called by name

“Chamber that shall be Our Stopping Place,”

we shall find rest [pašaḫu] therein.

We shall lay out the shrine, let us set up its emplacement,

When we come thither (to visit you), we shall find rest therein.

When Marduk heard this,

His features glowed brightly, like the day,

Then make Babylon the task that you requested,

Let its brickwork be formed, build high the shrine.15

In the ancient Near East as in the Bible, temples are for divine “rest,” and divine rest is found in sanctuaries or sacred space.16

Cosmos and temple connection in the ancient Near East. The connection of cosmos and temple can be seen in Mesopotamian cosmological texts such as Enuma Elish, in Mesopotamian temple-building texts (esp. the Sumerian account of Gudea’s temple project), in Ugaritic mythology concerning Baal’s seeking a house for himself, and in Egyptian temple texts. These often portray the temple as related to the cosmic mountain or the first primeval hillock to emerge from the waters of chaos. The temple is portrayed as being in the center of the cosmos, with waters flowing forth from its midst.17

Functions, functionaries, and temples. In the extensive Sumerian account of Gudea’s construction of a temple for Ningirsu several items are worthy of note. (1) The sanctuary is being constructed in order to provide a resting place for Ningirsu and his consort, Bau.18 (2) The dedication ceremonies last seven days.19 (3) In the dedication ceremonies the text includes the proclamation of functions of the temple and the installation of its functionaries.20 (4) Hurowitz has noticed that the description of the temple construction is not architectural in nature. Despite the detail, the accounts “do not enable the reader to visualize the shape of the temple, even partially or schematically.”21 This is in accord with what we have suggested about the creation account of Genesis being functional rather than structural.

Just as Gudea’s account established functions for the temple and then supplied functionaries to operate in it, the Genesis account sets up functions and functionaries for the cosmic temple. Genesis 2:1 indicates this as it refers to the creation of heaven and earth (the cosmos with its functions) and “all their hosts” (the functionaries in the various realms of the cosmos; NIV, “in all their vast array”). In a temple-construction project, the structure was built, and the furniture and trappings were made in preparation for the moment when all was ready for the dedication of the temple.

On this occasion, normally a seven-day celebration, the functions of the temple were declared, the furniture and hangings were put in place, the priests were installed, and the appropriate sacrifices were made to initiate the temple’s operation. Somewhere in the process, the image of the deity was brought into the temple to take up residence (rest). The Sabbath element helps us to recognize the temple-cosmos equation22 and to realize the contextual significance of the functions and functionaries in the creation narrative.

Methodology. With the information supporting the cosmos-temple-Sabbath connections set forth, we now must consider carefully our methodology for capturing the message and purpose of the narrative. The contextual and lexical data offer no explicit information concerning the concept of God taking up his repose in his cosmic temple. The correlation between days one, four, and seven point to time as the main interest, and the language speaks of ceasing from something (his work), thus emphasizing a point of action in the past. On the other side of the equation, Israelite theology and the background of the culture easily provide the basis for seeing a reference to a cosmic temple in which God takes up his residence. This view emphasizes the whole span of past, present, and future and directs our attention to an ongoing situation. In this perspective, God’s “resting” is for a purpose.

Methodologically we have to grant the text priority as it chooses its own emphasis. We must allow it to target certain issues directly while other perspectives drift around behind that which takes center stage. In Genesis, it is the plight of people that has motivated the account. The text can therefore pull up theologically short on the Sabbath idea of God’s taking the helm of the cosmos and just talk about God’s work being finished because that is all the reader needs in order to appreciate the original situation of humankind before the Fall. There is a difference, however, between people being the focus of the narrative and people being the center of creation. Theologically, we have often moved too easily from one to the other. People are in one sense in the center of this text, but people are not the center of the cosmos. To say that God has set the cosmos up to function for our convenience and given us high standing in it is not the same as saying God has created everything for us.

What is the Sabbath all about for Israel? Here we move beyond the text to the theological concepts emanating from the text. Leviticus 19:30 and 26:2 (“Observe my Sabbaths and have reverence for my sanctuary. I am the LORD”) show Sabbath and sanctuary in relation to one another. Our previous discussion has demonstrated how these two issues come together. Observing the Sabbath is a way to recognize God’s control of the cosmos, and he rules the cosmos from his temple, which is a microcosmic model. Exodus 31:13 makes the Sabbath a sign of the covenant. As God reveals his nature through his chosen people, Israel, it is incumbent on them to continually give recognition to who he is.

The divine Sabbath of Genesis 2 is not simply an etiology of the human Sabbath, nor does the human observance of the Sabbath somehow help people to take part in the divine Sabbath. Instead, the divine Sabbath is seen as the cause of the human Sabbath. By observing the human Sabbath, people give recognition to the divine Sabbath. In Exodus 20 the motivation for the Sabbath is the recognition of God’s creation of cosmic equilibrium and stability. This is evident insofar as this text goes the extra step that Genesis did not take. Genesis 2 was content to indicate that God ceased (šbt) from his work, but it does not say what he did next. In Exodus 20:11, the noun šabbat is used, but not the verb. Additionally it expresses what he did after he stopped his work: He entered into his “rest.” In Deuteronomy 5 the motivation is the recognition of God’s provision of national equilibrium and stability. Both have to do with God’s kingship, which takes us back to the correlation between rest and enthronement.23 Likewise, temple, throne, and creation all come together in places like Psalm 93.

God’s Sabbath is not a withdrawal from the world and its operations (e.g., “My work is done, it’s all yours now; good luck!”); instead, it represents his taking his place at the helm. This is what Israel’s observance of the Sabbath gives recognition to. Certainly one part of this, and maybe even a major part of it, concerns recognition that time belongs to God. But time and space cannot be easily separated. Levenson offers the comparison, “The Temple is to space what the Sabbath is to time, a recollection of the protological dimension bounded by mundane reality.”24 By this he means that each of them cut out a section of their domain as belonging in a special way to God, specifically as a reminder that the entire domain belongs to God.

The relationship of Sabbath and worship is an important study. Laansma points out the passages that draw temple and Sabbath together and the fact that numerous laws assume the celebration of the Sabbath in the temple.25 On the one hand, these are undeniable, but on the other they do not offer a clear profile of Sabbath worship practices. Furthermore, it should be noted that there are no instructions with regard to what one should do on the Sabbath. Most of the legislation focuses on the things one should not do. This suggests that acts of worship could not be seen as the central issue of Sabbath observance.

Observing the Sabbath required a worldview in which worship had an appropriate role. Certainly recognition of God’s place in the cosmos and his role in history inspire worship. But much more should be inspired, for Israel’s observing the Sabbath meant stepping away from a self-focus and the needs that drove their existence six days a week. It offered a reset button in their lives that allowed them to regain God’s perspective. Isaiah 58:13–14 presents this idea articulately as it commends turning from one’s own pleasure to honoring God (note also 56:2).

Seven-day structure. At this point the question often arises, “So, do you think they were seven literal days or not?” In the discussion of yom (“day”) in the Original Meaning section exploring day one (pp. 80–81), we concluded that the original Israelite audience would have taken the word to refer to twenty-four-hour days. As the discussion of Genesis 1 proceeded, however, we also saw that the seven days were focused on functions, not structures; on ordering the cosmos, not on making things. Nevertheless we ask, if that is so—that is, if God set up the functions in the seven days—did he not have to make the things in the seven days?

Such a question illustrates how resolutely we cling to our own worldview and hold out against theirs. Trying to bring structures into a functional discussion is like playing leapfrog with a unicorn. Since our culture believes that function is a consequence of structure, we assume that if the things existed, the functions would have existed. Is this a necessary assumption? Can things exist without functioning as they are capable of doing? The Israelites, first of all, would not have cared whether they could or not. It was a common idea in the ancient world that things did not really exist until they were serving their function (see above, pp. 84–87).

But if the Israelites were forced to our view that matter, not function, defines existence, they would still say yes. They knew of structure without function. For instance, they viewed the remote desert places as trackless wastes with no function. The computer illustration we used earlier (p. 97) suggests that we too acknowledge material existence without functionality, and junkyards and landfills drive the point home. On the cosmological level, even something like the Big Bang theory allows for our functional ecosystem to become operational long after the bang.

Moreover, we need to point out again that since the functions are relative to people and their presence, the functions would not be seen to exist until people were there. In this sense the question of either structures or functions before people resembles our question about whether a tree that fell in a forest would make any sound if no one were there to hear it. As a result of all of this, we must ask, what does the seven-day structure mean to the author and audience of the text?

From the monarchy period on, Israelite practice associated the dedication of a temple as a resting place for deity with Sukkoth (Feast of Tabernacles, 1 Kings 8:2; see also Ezra 3:4), which was observed over a seven-day period, after which Yahweh would come and take up his residence.26 There is likewise a seven-day connection in Ezekiel’s temple (Ezek. 43:25–26). In other words, the seven-day Sabbath structure is not a separate motif that has been tacked on to the creation narrative with independent literary or theological intentions. It is rather reflective of the fact that seven days of furbishing the sanctuary precede the habitation of it. In this way the seven-day format may itself represent a functional element attached to the normal dedication process. Thus, the Sabbath element is not a tag on to the creation narrative. It is its motivation; the reason God creates is to establish a place of rest for himself.

In the ancient Near Eastern literature, the seven-day building or dedication practice is also apparent. In Ugaritic mythology Baal takes seven days to construct his sanctuary.27 On the seventh day of the Akitu festival (annual Babylonian enthronement festival on New Year’s Day), the god made the procession from the Akitu house outside of the city to assume his place in his temple and his role as suzerain.28 As mentioned earlier, Gudea’s account of temple building and construction in Sumerian literature also indicates seven days for the celebration of the temple’s commencement.

As can be seen, the seven days does not always refer to the same part of the process. We see it associated with construction (Baal), with dedication leading up to installation (Solomon), with celebration after installation, and with reenactment and reinstallation (Babylon). We can see, however, that the seven days has a liturgical significance in accounts and ceremonies connected to the construction of sanctuaries. In the ancient world, liturgy had the purpose of actualizing important events—establishing and proclaiming their reality. M. Weinfeld’s thesis is that “the priesthood in Israel actualized by means of the Sabbath the completion of the acts of creation in the same way that the peoples of the ancient Near East actualized in their cultic dramas the primordial event.”29

If we press the question, did God really carry out the events of Genesis 1 in seven twenty-four-hour days, the answer is certainly, yes. What we do not know is whether that literal seven days incorporated a ceremonial setting, focused on a declarative sequence, or something else again. If the interpretation offered in this commentary is correct in highlighting function over structure, the text may not suggest that all things were made in this seven-day period. God’s creation of matter may not be confined to the seven days, nor is it the principle subject of Genesis 1. Given Israel’s functional definition of reality that differs considerably from ours, it would be hard to derive a “straight” answer from the text (i.e., one that answers our question pointedly). This is not to suggest that whatever happened in the seven days was simply spiritual or symbolic. I would contend that it is real. But the focus of the narrative is on the most fundamental theological issue—the fact that the seven days of creation put God’s purposes in place.

Some readers may respond that this view of the text leaves too much room for theistic evolution. It would not be surprising that the narratives in the text of Genesis do not directly address the question of theistic evolution because there was no belief in anything like that in the ancient world for the author of Genesis to anticipate and refute. In contrast, however, the theology of the Bible leaves no room at all for such a belief. Theistic evolution typically claims that God kicked off the process and let evolution happen. This should more properly be called, deistic evolution.

Another variation plugs God into the evolutionary view called punctuated equilibrium. In this view the major changes represented in the evolutionary process took place in relatively brief and isolated periods of dramatic transformation while the in-between periods evidenced very little change. Theists adopting this model put God’s creative activity in the periods of momentous change. Neither of these models is compatible with the biblical view of God’s role in creation and nature in which God is fully involved at every moment. I contend that theistic evolution is an oxymoron that satisfies no one. If evolution is just a way to describe the mechanism of God’s creating, then we may as well call it creation instead of theistic evolution and admit that we actually know little of how God did it. If God is in control, there is nothing accidental or random. If there is nothing accidental or random, it is misleading to call it evolution.

Additionally, the ongoing work in intelligent design and irreducible complexity offers a growing body of evidence that dependence on random or accidental developments to explain even what we observe at the subcellular level should be suspect. While there may be parts of microevolution that can adequately describe some of how God does what he does, neither science nor the Genesis account offers much evidence to support the sort of comprehensive macrodevelopmental scheme that theistic evolutionists propose. Instead of talking about God’s use of natural laws to do his work, I believe that nature and that which we identify as natural laws are simply our explanation of how God does what he does in creation.

That does not mean that we should expect that everything God does in creation should be explainable by what we call nature or natural laws. In fact, the text suggests the existence of such exceptions in the description of the creation of Adam from the dust of the ground—there is nothing there to connect to anything we would recognize as natural laws.

If we ask what significance a seven-day cycle had, we may find the answer rather by observing the significance that it did not have. The acknowledgment of Yahweh’s dominion, being connected to the periodic seven-day sequence, is thereby divorced from any of the objects of nature often connected to the passage of time.

The authors of Scripture were well aware that the theology of paganism was chained to the natural rhythms of time, even to the celestial deities, personified as Sun, Moon, Stars, and Constellations, which lorded it over the cycles of days and nights, months and seasons and years: personified powers which are demoted in Genesis to mere artifacts, lamps rising and setting on command of the One Creator.30

We can therefore conclude that the seven-day cycle gave Israel a foundation for their calendar that operated independently of all the objects and functions of the created world (i.e., cycles of the moon or sun; seasons) and linked them to a recognition of God and his role. At the same time, it put the creation narrative in the context of an enthronement/temple dedication-type of setting.

Contemporary Significance

WHAT SHOULD THE Sabbath mean to us? The young man knew the moment had come, the moment he had been looking forward to for years. As he looked at his beloved, his eyes and heart filled with love, and deep feelings of love washed over his entire being. He awkwardly knelt, took her trembling hand between his, which had now grown damp, and turned his eyes up to hers, themselves misted over with expectation. With broken voice he pledged his undying love and asked if she would consider being his partner and compatriot through the journey of life. “My commitment to you knows no limits; the love I feel for you is a well dug deeply into my very soul.” She gazed into the disconcerting honesty of his eyes, paused a moment, but only to catch her breath, and assented to be his wife. He let out the breath that he felt he had held forever with a contented sigh, and said, “But now you’re not going to expect me to do something special for you every birthday, are you? I mean, like, what are the rules? I have a busy life, you know, and I can’t always just set everything aside for something like a birthday every year. Do I have to do that?”

OK, so it’s corny and silly, but let’s look in the mirror for a moment. It is not unusual for the question to be raised, “Is the Sabbath a law that we Christians have to keep?” The answer is that if we have to be reminded, commanded, or coerced to observe it, it ceases to serve its function. The Sabbath is not the sort of thing that should have to be regulated by rules. It is the way we acknowledge that God is on the throne, that this world is his world, that our time is his gift to us. It is “big picture time.” And the big picture is not me, my family, my country, my world, or even the history of my world. The big picture is God.

As mentioned earlier, we need to stop looking at Christianity as being defined as a set of rules we have to keep. Christian freedom doesn’t say there are no rules, but rather that we shouldn’t need rules. The Bible is not a book of rules. The Bible reveals the God whom we serve, and we serve him gladly. For too many of us it is too easy to think of our faith in terms of what God has done for us.

The biblical interest in righteousness is replaced by a search for happiness, holiness by wholeness, truth by feeling, ethics by feeling good about one’s self. The world shrinks to the range of personal circumstances; the community of faith shrinks to a circle of personal friends. The past recedes. The Church recedes. The world recedes. All that remains is the self.31

This kind of Christianity is a “me” religion: God loves me; Christ died for me; Jesus saved me; heaven is prepared for me. These are all true, of course, but they do not comprise the sum total of our faith. In the end, our Christianity is all about God. What would our faith look like if we did not have information about Christ’s life and death? What if we had no good news of salvation and no hope of heaven? Would our faith survive? If not, we would have to conclude that our faith commitment is founded on what we get out of it rather than being a response to who God is. Such would be a painful admission, but one that many of us, even at our best moments, would have to make.

Sometimes we like to think that God made us for something that he gains, or even needs, from us. That is a deficient view of God. It is true that everything God created should and does glorify him. But this is not in any way similar to human vanity that thrives on recognition. God does not need praise and did not create so that he could be patronized. Neither did God create us for our own intrinsic sake. He did not need companionship. He loves us dearly, but he was not in need of an object for love.

God did not create us so that he could save us, though he has always been willing to do so. Rather, creation flows out of who God is. It is a natural expression of his attributes—just as a person with a golden voice is inevitably going to sing and an artist is destined to draw. God’s attributes intrinsically lead to his creative work just as they lead to his salvific work. God needs no motivation to create; it simply flows from who he is. He does not need to create; he is the Creator. When we honor and serve him, it is in recognition of those attributes.

Scripture tells us little about what we are to do on the Sabbath. It gives us a clue by indicating what we are not to do, but if the Sabbath has its total focus in recognition of God, it would detract considerably if he had to tell us what to do. Be creative! Do whatever will reflect your love, appreciation, respect, and awe of the God of all the cosmos (this is the thrust of Isa. 58:13–14). Worship is a great idea, but it cannot be mechanical, and it may only be the beginning.

Think for a moment about the cultural phenomenon of holidays. Take Memorial Day—a day set aside to honor those Americans who have died in wars, who have given their lives to preserve the ideals and the freedom we enjoy. A significant aspect of the honor accorded is that the day is designated as a federal holiday when, as a rule, people do not go to work. But, as with the Sabbath, that defines what we do not do rather than what we do. So what do we do on Memorial Day to give honor? For the most part it depends on whether one has loved ones who gave their lives. The more gratitude one feels toward the sacrifice of those who died, the more effort will go into planning ways to give honor. Some have parades; some have graveside services; some buy flowers to plant by tombstones. Taking a day off work is just the beginning—a society response. What should be the personal response? The more the day means to a person, the more deliberate he or she will be about scheduling appropriate activities.

This is similar to how the Sabbath works. A society-wide response designates it as a holiday and dictates that it be work-free. But it is up to the individual to determine what his or her personal response will be in order to give the honor that is due. The parades and ceremonies of a holiday are matched by the worship services of the Sabbath. The more gratitude we feel toward God and the more we desire to honor him, the more the ceremonies will mean and the more we will seek out ways to observe the Sabbath. The main difference between a holiday like Memorial Day and the Sabbath is that Memorial Day is important enough to have an official day set aside once a year; the Sabbath is important enough to have an official day once a week.

This perspective about the Sabbath may also give us a renewed vision about church. The last decade of the twentieth century saw a spate of books investigating church growth, church renewal, and church trends. From Leith Anderson’s Dying for Change in 1990 to George Barna’s The Second Coming of the Church in 1998, we have been provided with much helpful insight for rethinking or reinventing the church in light of the changes within society. Such books point out some of the trends that impact the church today. Anderson suggests that low loyalty in baby boomers (in conjunction with their high expectations) and the individualism and isolation of baby busters (coupled with a strong sense of entitlement) have created a consumeristic approach to church.32 Barna’s research supports these findings.

Overall attendance at Christian churches has slumped somewhat; people are going less regularly, and are becoming more selective. Worship remains an art that most people have tried—and tens of millions continue to invest in each week. However, nearly one-fifth of all churchgoers now attend more than one church, usually on a rotating basis, in order to meet their spiritual needs and satisfy their theological curiosity.33

This means that “regular” church attenders are generally not as regular in their attendance as were their parents and grandparents. Also, people switch churches more frequently and for less significant reasons. One of the explanations I most often hear given by people who are switching churches is that church is not providing enough for them. They don’t get enough out of it, or the church doesn’t have this program or that ministry to meet their needs. As Barna indicates, we have moved from the idea of a church home to church as a place for a “spiritual pit stop.”

While the statistics reflect the reality of today’s society, we can only lament how far we have drifted from the ideal. The church experience has been enveloped into the far-too-prevalent “me” element of our faith and practice. Gathering together to worship on our Sabbath (Sunday34), however, should be something we do for God, not for ourselves. C. S. Lewis suggests that “the perfect church service would be one that we were almost unaware of; our attention would have been on God.”35 Worship is about giving, not getting. When we choose a gift for someone, do we only think about how good we will feel giving it? Perhaps as we rethink the church, it should not be done with an eye toward gratifying an ever-escalating consumerism but by vigorously reeducating people about what church is all about and why we go.

How should a church respond to attrition? When we follow up with people who have left, we sometimes encounter those who have fallen away from their faith and can be challenged to a renewed commitment and accountability. The number of people in this category is sufficiently large to warrant a consistent policy of following up on truants. More often, I think, we encounter those who have complaints about the particular church they are attending. If such interviews help the church leadership to identify actual shortcomings in the way the church operates, this information should be welcomed and occasion change.

The danger, however, is that exit interviews and surveys will simply betray people’s whims (at times quite self-centered) that the church dare not turn its sail to. A church cannot afford to follow one albatross after another but must have a strong, biblically oriented sense of mission that will prevent it from adopting whatever course of action will keep parishioners happy and attract ever-growing numbers. If a church seeks to withstand the winds of consumerism, it must have undivided commitment to be true to itself, its mission, its head (Christ), and its God.

Implications of the cosmos as temple: environmentalism reprise. As a brief postscript to our earlier discussion, environmentalism can now be understood not as having its basis in the rights that people have been given (subduing and ruling) but in recognition of what the cosmos is (God’s temple). This does not suggest that every element of nature contains an intrinsic sacredness but that we must recognize that we are in Someone Else’s house.