More Than Enough

by Dr. Christine Pohl (Associate Provost for Faculty Development, Professor of Church in Society)

A focus on keeping Sabbath is an important word for us today, and I am grateful for the invitation to participate in Asbury’s sermon series on Sabbath.  I’m certainly not an expert on the topic, but I am very much a fellow traveler with you, trying to live into a deeper appreciation for the gift of Sabbath rest.  While at an intellectual and spiritual level I have understood that Sabbath is important and a blessing, I often find its practice crowded out by the demands of the week, by responsibilities, by worries, by scheduling that I don’t always control.  And so, I am grateful that in order to prepare this sermon, I have had to reflect more fully on what it means to live into the practice of Sabbath rest, and I pray that my words will be received as words of grace and encouragement.

The text for this sermon is Exodus 16—the story of God’s provision of manna in the wilderness, with the instructions about gathering it for six days and then resting from gathering on the seventh.  It is a story that captures God’s generosity, patience, and blessing, along with human frailty and disobedience.  It is also a story about different forms of nourishment—food and Sabbath.  Before examining it closely, it is important to set the stage for this story.

In the chapters prior to Exodus 16, we find the dramatic account of the liberation of the children of Israel from their slavery in Egypt.  We read of how God led them daily through the wilderness, going before them, providing light and direction.  In the midst of their journey, Pharaoh and his army began to pursue them again. Not surprisingly, the children of Israel were terrified and cried out to the Lord for help, and said to Moses, in desperation, “was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness?”  Moses reassured them that God would deliver them from yet another desperate situation, and God did so in their miraculous deliverance through the Red Sea. 

At the end of chapter 14 we read, “Israel saw the great work that the Lord did against the Egyptians. So the people feared the Lord and believed in the Lord and in his servant Moses.”  They sang songs of rejoicing, praise, thanks, and confidence (chapter 15). “Who is like you, Lord, among the gods? Who is like you, majestic in holiness…. doing wonders?”  They celebrated God’s steadfast love, guidance, protection, and provision.

It was quite the celebration. But within a few days of walking through the wilderness without water, they began complaining again.  It must have been terrifying to be without water in the wilderness, but it is still surprising that they were so quick to complain after they had just witnessed, experienced, and celebrated God’s protection and provision.

Once again, God provided water and a promise of protection.  God brought them to Elim, an oasis with twelve springs of water.  The end of chapter 15 gives a picture of gracious, lush, life-giving provision.  There’s plenty of water, shade, and rest.

And then we come to chapter 16. The children of Israel left Elim and headed into the wilderness again.  And within a few days, their food ran out and their complaining resumed.  The stinging complaint-filled rebuke came to Moses and Aaron—if only God had killed us in Egypt –at least in Egypt we weren’t hungry—but you have brought us out to the wilderness to kill us by starvation.

This is truly a miserable congregation. In their fear, they rewrote their own very recent history, they forgot God’s most recent acts of miraculous rescue and provision, and they started complaining again. They make most difficult congregations look easy by comparison.

And yet, somehow, God’s grace, discipline, and provision prevailed again. God promised to rain bread from heaven on them in the morning. There would be enough food; they would not be hungry. But with provision also came a test, a proving ground.

And so we read in verse 4, “Then the Lord said to Moses, “I am going to rain bread from heaven for you, and each day the people shall go out and gather enough for that day.  In that way I will test them, whether they will follow my instruction or not. On the sixth day, when they prepare what they bring in, it will be twice as much as they gather on the other days.”  Remarkably, God provided the quail and the manna, though it is all a bit of a mystery.  God’s provision for them fell out of the sky every day—it fell out of the sky—all they needed for food—and it fell out of the sky.

Moving down to verse 16, we find another set of instructions,  “This is what the Lord has commanded: ‘Gather as much of it as each of you needs, an omer to a person according to the number of persons, all providing for those in their own tents.” And so they did—some folks gathered more, some less, but when they measured it with their measuring cups, it all came out the same. Somehow they had what they needed—food enough for that day for every person. And that’s the next part of the command.  You can’t store up the manna; don’t leave anything for the next day.

It was clearly a strange and difficult command for a people who constantly worried about being hungry, about having enough food.  Surely to just gather enough and then eat it all would be irresponsible. And so, some of them decided to be frugal and cautious, to eat a little less so there would be leftovers just in case the manna wasn’t there the next morning.  In their fear and their determination to provide for themselves, however, they had missed the point.  The leftover, set-aside manna, the bread from heaven they tried to keep until the next morning, turned bad, rancid, and wormy.  Moses, once again, was very frustrated with his congregation. 

One of the things we notice in this account is how the meaning of the manna was revealed gradually. After gathering manna each morning, when the people got to the sixth day, they gathered twice as much.  At that point (verses 22 and following) Moses told them what was about to happen next.  “Tomorrow, the seventh day, is a day of solemn rest, a holy Sabbath to the Lord, bake what you want to bake and boil what you want to boil, and all that is left over put aside to be kept until morning.” 

The people must have been very puzzled—this time they were told to gather the manna and to keep some for the day of rest, the Sabbath.  They must have wondered—uhm…last time we did this we got in trouble.  Nevertheless, most of them were obedient, and found that the manna on the day of rest was still good and sufficient.  Moses told them, “eat it today, for today is a Sabbath to the Lord; today you will not find it in the field. Six days you shall gather it; but on the seventh day, which is a Sabbath, there will be none.” 

While most of the people rested and enjoyed God’s provision, some went out on the day of rest to gather more manna. Why?  Were they just stupid, or deaf, or disobedient? Or were they perhaps the super-achievers, the ones trying to make sure there was enough. In any case, there wasn’t any manna to be found, but there was a very frustrated Moses who wondered whether his congregation would ever learn to keep God’s commands or follow God’s instructions.  Moses said to them, “See! The Lord has given you the Sabbath, therefore on the sixth day he gives you food for two days; each of you stay where you are; do not leave your place on the seventh day.” And the people rested.

The manna that God provided and its manner of provision were a testimony to God’s care and faithfulness to many generations. This passage brings Sabbath and God’s provision together in a remarkable way. 

The story in Exodus 16 of the manna and the importance of Sabbath to how God’s blessing works is prior to the giving of the Ten Commandments. The fourth commandment about keeping the Sabbath is recorded four chapters later in Exodus 20; it is a command tied to the rhythm of labor and rest—rest for all of creation based on God’s choice to rest when completing creation.  So the account in Exodus 16 of manna and Sabbath comes before the law; it is a story the people of God live into and remember as they receive the commandment.  It is a story of blessing falling out of the sky, blessing totally associated with God’s hand and provision. They did nothing except gather it.

Nothing they did could make more of it, or make it last longer. If they tried to save it, it spoiled; if they trusted God, they had a chance to delight in sheer blessedness.  And on the Sabbath, they weren’t even supposed to gather it.  On the Sabbath, there was no need for work, no striving, just blessed rest and more than enough food.

So what does this story of manna and Sabbath suggest to us about God? About ourselves? About the practice of Sabbath?

First, about God:

The account in Exodus 16 reminds us that we worship, serve, and love a God who is gracious and supplies more than enough. There is more than enough provision; there is also all that we need and more of time, forgiveness, and grace.

God who created the universe and made it beautiful, who shaped days and nights, seasons and Sabbaths, provided water and manna, also found reason to stop and delight in creation.  This same God continues to delight in providing more than enough. What God asks in return is our trust, fidelity and obedience, our attention and our delight.

Second, what does this account suggest to us about ourselves?

The story reminds us of how often our trust and confidence are dependent on our circumstances, and how hard it is to live out what we believe when the circumstances turn really frightening.  The children of Israel were worried about feeding their families. Could it be so bad to keep back a little manna to make sure there would be some for tomorrow’s breakfast—just in case the manna was delayed or disappeared?  How bad could it be if I went out to gather a little on a day of rest to make sure my children were fed?  And anyway, the children of Israel had survived for centuries without Sabbath rest—under the Egyptians they had worked hard all the time.  They had all sorts of reasons to build in some protections, just in case the bread of heaven wasn’t enough.

The children of Israel had been freed from the bondage of Egypt, but they were still learning to embrace the freedom of a new way of life. They did not understand that liberation involved a new way of living, a way of trusting the one who had liberated them, a way that embodied the rhythms God had observed in creation.

This is a story about trust. The language is obedience and commands, but the manna and Sabbath pattern was not simply a test of whether they would follow instructions.  It was a test of trust under very difficult circumstances. Keeping Sabbath is not first about whether we will be obedient to a demand, commandment, law, or expectation that often seems inconvenient. It is first about trusting the one we love with the ordering of our time and efforts for every day of the week.

Today, many of us value control or at least the illusion of control, results we can measure, and getting things done in an efficient way.  An appreciation of Sabbath challenges these emphases and helps human beings remember other values. If we work all the time and are continually anxious when we are not getting things done, it isn’t only Sabbath we’re squeezing out of our lives, it is our capacity for delight and wonder.

And third, what does this passage suggest about the practice of Sabbath?

Sabbath is about trusting God in the provision of time. Time is our most precious resource. For the children of Israel in the desert, it was probably food, but for us it is time. The manna account reminds us of God’s provision of enough food; in the Sabbath, God is telling us that there is also more than enough time.   Today, we are programmed to think that there is not enough time; but time, unlike food or land or water, is always the same—24 hours in a day, seven days in a week.

When we struggle with not having enough time to rest or enjoy a Sabbath, perhaps the problem is not with the Sabbath but with the rest of our days—how we fill them and how we use them. Our busyness is not always in our control, but often far more of our schedule is under our control than we realize or admit.

Sabbath is for everyone—not just us.  If we take Sabbath seriously, we need to take care so that our rest does not cause harm or unrelenting work for others on a consistent basis. For example, there are implications for the expectations we place on spouses and coworkers, and for how we treat staff and volunteers in the church. God has given the Sabbath to all of creation—workers, parents, children, animals, and land. It means we might need to rethink how we schedule and plan things. We can unwittingly destroy any chance others have to find delight and renewal in Sabbath.

Sabbath is not an excuse or framework for irresponsibility and it is not a model for spiritually-legitimated self-indulgence.  It is not “me” time.   It is a gift; it is not something to which we are entitled.  As a gift, however, it is something to cherish and protect.  There will be times we have to hold it lightly, and trust God for grace and strength when responsibilities crash in on us, or care for others makes special demands. If we know how precious a provision it is, however, we will help each other find ways to enjoy it, and be blessed by it.

We need to be careful not to turn its importance into a burden, or yet another source of anxiety.  We can embrace it as God’s wise provision, fitted to the rhythms of creation.  We can enjoy it as a break—but a break from what? For the Israelites—it was a break from gathering food.  In this culture—it is a rest from unrelenting busy-ness, from a frenetic 24/7 task orientation, and from the need to constantly be buying or texting or working so we can do more of the same.

An embrace of Sabbath rest needs to spill over into how we live the rest of the week—trusting God and not grabbing all we can get. If we do not pace ourselves and live in trust, Sabbath will always be an awkward intrusion into a crazy schedule.  An appreciation for the meaning of Sabbath can restructure all of our days—every minute belongs to God; it is all God’s time. How we use the other days, the work we are engaged in, matters to God.  What we do with our time matters. 

In Deuteronomy 8, we read that the experience of manna in the wilderness was God’s way of reminding people that they do not live by bread or work alone, but by God’s grace and power. Both manna and Sabbath are reminders of our dependence on the Lord. And yet, the Lord, the one infinite in power and in goodness also took a Sabbath; God rested.  And so we read in Exodus 31 that the Sabbath is a sign reminding us both of God’s work in creation, and God’s finding refreshment in resting from it.

Sabbath is a structuring of time that is about grace more than law, though we tend to see any kinds of structure as a legalistic burden.  But Sabbath creates an opening in time for things other than work.  It is a structure for delight, a regular chance to remember, to notice, to rejoice in all the ways in which what God has given us is more than enough. 

Nevertheless, Sabbath is also a challenge for almost everyone; it was for the children of Israel and it is for us.  It is a challenge for parents whose young children don’t stop being hungry or wet or sick just because their parents want to rest; a challenge for pastors whose busiest day is the day most people would claim as Sabbath. It is a challenge for caregivers—either professional or family members—whose rest is often more irregular because caregiving doesn’t stop.

Sabbath-keeping does not have to become legalistic to be real.  Although it may need to be shaped by some self-discipline, it is primarily blessing and gift. Part of the reason we struggle with Sabbath and don’t delight in it is because we don’t know what to do with it or how we should behave during this supposed time of rest. We often think of Sabbath in terms of things we shouldn’t do.  But what does rest look like?

Sabbath is not an excuse for mindless or superficial entertainment.  It is a time for slowing down, for reflection, hospitality, enjoyment of the good gifts of God that we find in others, in God, and in creation. Perhaps what we can do is live into this structuring of our time, and ask God to help us see the ways that it can be used for rest, refreshing, renewal, and joy.  That won’t be the same for all of us, not even on the same day for all of us, and it doesn’t need to be.

We do not need to become apostles of Sabbath; we are disciples of Jesus. However, Sabbath is a gift that, once opened, will make our lives a little more beautiful and grace-filled.  It is not easy because the larger culture does not support it, and we are not always sure what to do with it.  But Sabbath, for the follower of Jesus, is time set aside for delight, for gratitude, for physical and intellectual rest, for celebration and worship.  And the story in Exodus 16 of manna and Sabbath reminds us that as we live fully for God, trusting in God for all our resources, whether time or food, energy or wisdom, there is more than enough. 

As we turn to the communion table, we remember that in John 6, the crowd came to Jesus and asked for a sign shortly after he had fed five thousand of them.  They wanted another sign!  What work are you doing?  they asked.  “Our ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, as it is written. ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’”  What do you give? Jesus’ response was that He is himself the bread of life, bread from heaven. “Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty,” he promises.

Whatever our situation, our weariness, our hunger, or thirst—Jesus promises that he is more than enough.  He is the bread that God sends from heaven; the living bread, the bread for living. As we partake of the bread and cup, we remember that, in Jesus, we find freedom to rest and trust in him, freedom to see him as our Sabbath rest, and freedom to delight in his goodness and grace.  We come to the table recognizing that in Christ we have all we need; we have more than enough.

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