“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He makes me lie down in green pastures;
he leads me beside still waters;
he restores my soul.”
(Psalm 23:1–3)

I’m about to take two weeks of vacation, which means that, for the next little while, I will not be answering emails, writing sermons, checking the church calendar, or wondering whether I’ve forgotten something important.

At least, that’s the plan.

I’m also aware that taking vacation is one thing. Actually resting while on vacation is something else entirely.

I’m good at being away. I’m less good at stopping.

There is always something that needs to be done, or something that could be done, or something that might become a problem if I don’t deal with it immediately. Even when I am technically resting, some part of my brain is making a list.

It turns out that doing nothing is not as easy as it sounds.

A friend recently referred to “nap ministry,” and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. It sounds funny, but I think there’s something deeply theological about it. Nap ministry is the ministry of recognizing that human beings need rest. It is the ministry of stopping before we break. It is the ministry of refusing to believe that our value depends entirely on our productivity.

Nap ministry says: you are allowed to lie down.

This is a countercultural message.

We live in a culture that rewards busyness. We admire people who are always available, always accomplishing something, always moving toward the next goal. We use words like “productive,” “efficient,” and “successful” as though they are descriptions of moral character. We talk about being busy as though it is evidence that our lives matter.

Even our leisure can become a project.

We don’t simply go for a walk; we track the steps. We don’t just read a book; we make a list of the books we ought to read. We don’t just take a nap; we feel guilty about the things we could have accomplished instead.

Apparently, my body can be lying horizontally while my mind is still at work.

But Psalm 23 doesn’t say that the shepherd leads us into a productivity strategy. The shepherd leads us to green pastures and still waters. The shepherd restores our souls.

Rest is not presented as a reward for having completed everything.

That’s important, because we will never complete everything. There will always be another email, another task, another difficult conversation, another load of laundry, another person who needs us. If rest only comes after the work is finished, we may never rest at all.

The psalmist understands something we often forget: rest is part of being cared for by God.

The shepherd makes us lie down.

There’s a slightly uncomfortable forcefulness to that image. The sheep do not necessarily decide that this is the right time for a break. The shepherd sees what they need and leads them toward it. The shepherd knows that tired sheep are vulnerable sheep. They need food, water, safety, and time to recover.

Perhaps God knows the same thing about us.

The gospel stories tell us that Jesus understood the need for rest. Jesus was often surrounded by people who needed healing, teaching, feeding, and comfort. There was always more work to do. There were always crowds pressing in. There were always disciples asking questions and opponents looking for reasons to criticize him.

And yet Jesus repeatedly stole time away.

He went off to pray. He withdrew to deserted places. He got into a boat. He went up a mountain. He found quiet spaces where he could be alone with God.

I love the language of “stealing time away,” because it suggests that Jesus knew time would not simply present itself. He had to take it. He had to make a deliberate choice to step away from the demands around him.

Jesus did not wait until everybody was satisfied before he prayed.

Jesus did not finish every task before taking a break.

Jesus did not treat his own exhaustion as a spiritual failure.

He rested because rest was necessary.

And if Jesus needed to step away, perhaps we should be less embarrassed about needing to do the same.

There is a difference between abandoning people and taking care of ourselves so that we can return with something to offer. There is a difference between avoiding responsibility and recognizing that we are finite creatures with finite energy. There is a difference between selfishness and sabbath.

I think we sometimes confuse self-denial with holiness. We imagine that the more exhausted we are, the more faithful we must be. We assume that saying yes to every request is proof of our love. We wear ourselves out and call it devotion.

But the God of Psalm 23 is not interested in driving us until we collapse.

God leads us beside still waters.

God restores our souls.

God prepares a table.

God anoints our heads with oil.

These are not images of spiritual efficiency. They are images of abundance, nourishment, safety, and care.

They are, in other words, very close to nap ministry.

I’m hoping that these two weeks will include some deliberate doing of nothing. Maybe there will be naps. Maybe there will be long walks, unhurried meals, books, conversations, and time spent noticing things that don’t need to be turned into accomplishments. Maybe I’ll sit somewhere and watch the day happen without trying to improve it.

I suspect this will be harder than it sounds.

The first few days of vacation can feel less like rest and more like withdrawal. When you are accustomed to a constant stream of obligations, quiet can feel suspicious. You begin to wonder whether you have forgotten something. You reach for your phone. You check the time. You think about what you should be doing.

But perhaps that is part of the process. Perhaps rest begins with allowing ourselves to notice how un-rested we really are.

The shepherd does not shame the sheep for needing green pasture. The shepherd does not criticize them for drinking deeply from the still water. The shepherd simply leads them there.

So I’m going to try to receive this vacation as a gift rather than a test. I don’t need to prove that I deserve it by accomplishing enough beforehand. I don’t need to justify it by returning more efficient than ever. I don’t need to make every moment meaningful.

I am allowed to rest because I am a human being, not a machine.

You are allowed to rest for the same reason.

Maybe you need a nap. Maybe you need an afternoon without an agenda. Maybe you need to take a walk, sit in the garden, turn off your phone, or say no to something that could be done by someone else. Maybe you need to steal time away; not because the people around you don’t matter, but because you matter too.

The world will continue to demand our attention. It will continue to tell us that we are behind, that there is more to do, and that we should be doing it faster.

Psalm 23 offers another voice.

The Lord is my shepherd.

I am not abandoned.

I am not required to manage everything alone.

There is green pasture. There is still water. There is a table. There is a God who restores souls.

And sometimes, there is a nap.

Blessings today, and remember you are Loved.

~Rev. Lynne

Audio File: https://audio.com/lynne-gardiner/audio/office-hours-nap-ministry