18 Oct 2026
Sermon - 10/18/26
Year A – Pentecost 21 – Stewardship Sunday, Week 3 – October 18, 2026
Pastor Megan Floyd
Exodus 20:8-11; 23:10-13
Mark 2:23-3:6
Grace and peace to you from God, who blessed the seventh day and rested, from the Holy Spirit, who renews us, and from Jesus Christ, who is lord of the sabbath. Amen.
***
Be honest with me for a moment.
How many of us feel a little guilty when we rest?
A midday nap… a slow Saturday… even the bone-deep exhaustion after a sleepless night… and we apologize for it. We say, "I'm sorry, I'm just being so lazy today."
I freely admit... Rest is something I struggle with. I was raised to always be on the move, because there was always more to do… so naps were simply not allowed. And even now… even as I stand up here and preach the necessity of rest… I admit… I feel guilty when I take it.
So I have started to wonder where that voice… that voice that tells me I'm lazy for resting… where does that voice come from? Because the first time the word "lazy" shows up in the book of Exodus, it comes from Pharaoh… back in chapter 5.
Moses had asked for a few days off so the people could worship YHWH. Just a few days. And Pharaoh answered, "You are lazy… lazy." And then he made the work even harder.
In our study on Exodus these last few weeks, I've referenced Pharaoh's math… and that right there is a prime example. If you stop, you are lazy. If you rest, someone falls behind on their quota.
And I wonder how many of us are still hearing that voice… long after we left Egypt… in our calendars, and our inboxes, and in our own heads.
***
We have been walking through the wilderness together, and did you notice… that rest has been there from the very beginning? Remember the manna? God gave a double portion on the sixth day, so that no one would have to gather on the seventh. God arranged the provision… so that rest would be possible.
And now, in the commandments, God makes it explicit. "Remember the sabbath day, and keep it holy." And Exodus tells us why. Because in six days God made heaven and earth… and on the seventh day, God rested.
Rest did not begin as a rule for people. It began with creation. It began with God.
God… who does not get tired… rested anyway. So if you have ever felt guilty about taking a nap, I would just gently remind you that even God took the day off.
***
But now, let's look at who the commandment is talking to. "You shall not do any work… you, your son or your daughter, your male or female slave, your livestock, or the resident alien in your towns."
This commandment is addressed to the head of the household. The one with the power to make everyone else keep working. And God says… that power… does not get to decide who has the right to rest.
Everyone rests. Children. Servants. Animals. The immigrant living in your town. In chapter 23, God says it plainly… so that the ox and the donkey may rest, and so that the slave and the stranger "may be refreshed."
Rest, in Exodus, is not a personal wellness plan. It is a justice issue.
Which means… we cannot be too congratulatory of our ability to rest, if it depends on someone else picking up our slack.
That is hard to hear, because so much of our rest quietly depends on someone else's work. The person who stocked the shelves… who cleaned the room… who delivered the package… who worked the shift so that the rest of us could have a weekend.
I do not say that to make us feel guilty. We're trying to put down our guilt here… but I say it because God was building a world, here, where nobody's rest was purchased with somebody else's exhaustion.
And God did not stop with people… even the land itself got a sabbath. Every seventh year, the fields lay fallow… and whatever grew on its own, the poor were free to eat.
That is an act of trust, isn't it? Don't plant. Don't harvest. Trust that enough will grow.
***
In our Gospel text, Jesus was walking through the grain fields on the sabbath, and his disciples were hungry. So they did what hungry people do. They plucked some grain… and ate.
(Hold on to that grain field. We will be back in it next week.)
Some of the people watching objected. And before we hear them as the villains of this story, let's be careful. These were people who loved God… and God's commandments… and they loved the sabbath. They were trying to protect it.
This was a family argument about what the gift of the Sabbath was for. Jewish tradition itself teaches that saving a life overrides the sabbath. Jesus was not throwing the sabbath out. He was reminding them what it was for.
"The sabbath was made for humankind," Jesus said, "and not humankind for the sabbath."
If that sounds familiar, it should. It is Exodus 23 all over again. Rest was made for the ox and the donkey and the stranger… it was made for the ones who needed it most. And on that sabbath day, the ones who needed it were hungry. …and God still provides… even on the sabbath.
***
Then, in the very next scene, Jesus went into the synagogue. And there was a man there with a withered hand. And everyone was watching to see what Jesus would do.
Jesus said to the man, "Come forward." Stand here… in the middle… where everyone can see you.
And then he asked a question that nobody could answer. Is it lawful, on the sabbath, "to save life or to kill?"
Silence.
Mark tells us that Jesus looked around at them with anger… and with grief. Grief at their hardness of heart. Not hatred. Grief. …The grief of someone who sees a person in need of relief… in a room full of people more concerned about the rule than about him.
And Jesus said to the man, "Stretch out your hand." And it was restored.
Think about that man. The man could not simply decide to be relieved of his pain. Relief had to come to him… through someone else.
That is what the sabbath is for. It's not only for the people who already have enough rest... It's also for the ones who cannot get it for themselves.
And notice what giving that rest cost. Mark tells us that some of the very people who were watching went out and began to plot how to destroy Jesus.
Giving rest to someone else… was dangerous. It cost him something.
***
So where does that leave us… in a world that never stops… where we are afraid to be the first one to slow down?
Because here is the truth. I think most of us need somebody to look at us and say… you are allowed to stop.
That is what community is for. We cannot do sabbath alone. Rest requires other people… not just to cover for us… but to remind us… and to give us permission… and to make room.
I find it wonderful that a movement has risen up against the very hustle culture that keeps us toiling… it's a movement that says rest is resistance.
It was started by Tricia Hersey, a Black woman and theologian who founded The Nap Ministry. She roots it in Black liberation theology, and in the memory of people who were forced to work like machines, with no rest at all. Does that sound familiar? That is Pharaoh's brickyard.
It is a lesson for all of us. We were not meant to toil nonstop. And sometimes we need to hold each other accountable for taking that God-ordained nap. So consider this an invitation… hold me accountable. And I will hold you.
And that makes it a question for us as a church. Where is Faith Lutheran helping others find rest? How do the resources we share… our time, our offerings, our budget… make rest possible for someone else?
It might be as simple as worship. One morning each week, set apart to be in God's presence… a time when we refill our spiritual cups together.
And to those of you for whom rest feels impossible right now… please hear this. The sabbath was never meant to be a solo achievement. It is something we can give to each other.
***
Because first, God created… and then God rested… and then… God made rest a gift for everyone else… the child and the servant… the ox and the stranger… the land… and the man with the withered hand.
The sabbath was made for humankind. Not just for the ones who have earned it… but for all of us… together.
So let's trust enough in God's abundance to stop for a day each week… and yes, I am preaching to myself…
Because in God's economy… rest is not laziness. Rest is trust. And rest, in the end, is a promise… that there will be, and in fact, there already is… enough.
Amen.
