What Sabbath Rest Really Looks Like for Me
I grew up knowing Sunday was different. Church, family, a big meal, no work. That was the rule, and I followed it because that’s what you do.
But I didn’t understand why until I needed it.
When rest became survival
When the company closed and I started rebuilding, everything in me wanted to work seven days a week. Catch up. Get ahead. Prove I wasn’t falling behind. Every day off felt like a day I couldn’t afford.
But I’m a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and Sabbath day observance isn’t a suggestion — it’s a commandment. And I take that seriously. So I stopped working on Sundays. Not because I felt like it. Because I was told to. And I needed it more than I knew.
What my Sabbath actually looks like
It’s not Instagram-perfect. It’s real life:
- Morning: Scripture, prayer, gratitude journal. I read from the Book of Mormon or the Bible — just a few verses. I sit with them. I don’t rush.
- Church: I go. Even when I’m tired. Even when I don’t feel like singing. I show up and let it fill me.
- Afternoon: Family. A meal. No laptop. No job applications. No checking email “just in case.”
- Evening: I write down one thing I’m grateful for from the day. I rest my body. I go to bed early.
What I’ve learned
Sabbath rest is not about being lazy. It’s about trusting that stopping is part of the work. That the world will keep turning while you rest. That God is aware of you even when you’re not hustling.
Some Sundays I’m peaceful. Some I’m restless. But every single one reminds me that my worth is not my productivity. My value is not my output. I am not what I produce.
That truth has kept me sane through the hardest weeks of my life.
If you’re struggling to rest
If you’re rebuilding and everything in you is screaming “I can’t afford to stop” — I understand. I’ve been there.
But here’s what I’d say: you can’t afford not to.
Rest is not a reward you earn after you’ve done enough. It’s a need you meet before you burn out.
Start small. One afternoon. One meal without your phone. One walk without a podcast.
Let it be enough. Let it be quiet. Let it refill what work empties out.
Sunday is not for catching up. It’s for being filled.