I have become my father’s son. That is, those traits that I thought were unique to him are now mine . . . in spades. For example, in my younger days I was amazed that my dad could come in from an active day and within minutes (closer to seconds) after settling into “his” chair be sound asleep. Now, for me that’s no longer a possibility, but a given!
Speaking of napping, I think it’s commendable that the city that never sleeps is at least taking naps. MetroNaps, a New York company that was founded in 2003 and now, franchised in major cities around the world, provides a chance for overworked employees, shoppers, and travelers to put their busy schedules on hold. For 20 minutes and 14 dollars, the weary are offered a state-of-the-art sleep pod designed to maximize the invigorating effects of a brief rest. Appropriately, one can also give the gift of napping. "Nap Passes" can be purchased for stressed-out colleagues and bosses, friends or family. Is this relatively new entrepreneurial effort reflective of the universal longing, and need, for napping?
The subject of hyper-activity and well-worn calendars is one that hits close to most of us. It seems that busyness is such a common denominator in so many lives that it can be seen in the marketing tactics of all kinds of products. Everything is meant to improve our demanding lives or, at least, make the chains of busyness more comfortable.
I was intrigued recently to discover an editorial offering a proposal to counter the chains that bind us to clocks, iPhones, Blackberries and in-boxes 24 hours a day. The suggestion, which the author admittedly referred to as “radical,” was to set aside our electronics for a day. He suggested that we all take a day to refocus and reorder. He even reasoned that perhaps the ancients didn't just pick the number seven out of a hat. They may have understood that we can only immerse ourselves in busyness for six days at a stretch before losing touch with anything approaching a civic, social, or spiritual reality.
Something about the seventh day was not meant to be forgotten. The book of Exodus recounts, "For in six days the LORD made the heavens and the earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but he rested on the seventh day" (20:11). While each of the six days of God's labor was pronounced good, He chose to set apart one day out of seven, declaring it holy. And in the form of a commandment, He asked us to keep it that way. It was to be a sign between God and humanity for generations to come, "so you may know that I am the LORD, who makes you holy" (Ex. 31:13).
But after centuries of living with the directive to rest, humanity has struggled to see it as little more than an antiquated suggestion. In this, Jesus found opportunity to remind the crowds, "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath" (Mark 2:27). As we approach Labor Day, I realize that I, too, need the reminder. The seventh day is a gift, a nap pass—a gentle invitation, albeit a powerful sign between God and humanity. It is a day set apart (holy) from appointment books and pressing schedules to remind us that the most pressing aspect of our lives is most authentically realized and dynamically lived out when we are resting in the presence of God. "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" (Matthew 11:28).