True Rest: A Taste Of Heaven

Have you ever felt exhausted—not just physically tired, but soul-weary? The kind of fatigue that no amount of sleep can cure, no weekend getaway can fix, no moment of distraction can truly relieve? It lingers beneath the surface, gnawing at you, whispering that something is missing. It is the deep ache of a restless soul.

And that’s because you were made for more. More than the relentless cycle of work and worry, more than the endless distractions of life, more than the fleeting pleasures that never truly satisfy. You were made for rest—not just a break, not just an escape, but a rest so rich and deep that it settles your heart, stills your striving, and fills you with peace.

From the very beginning, God wove this rest into the rhythm of creation. He set aside one day in seven, not because He needed to recharge, but because we would. The Sabbath was never about God taking a break. It was about us needing a foretaste of something greater. A weekly invitation to step away from the noise and taste the joy of eternity.

But how do we respond to this gift?

The Happy Meal Instead Of The Wedding Feast

I once took my children to an elegant restaurant—a place where food was not merely eaten, but experienced. Every dish was crafted with precision, layered with flavors that told a story, designed to be savored and remembered. It was the kind of meal that lingers in your mind long after the last bite, a meal that teaches you what food is truly meant to be.

But my children didn’t see it that way.

Before we even sat down, they started begging: “Can we just go to McDonald’s?” They had no interest in slow-cooked, carefully prepared food. They wanted what was quick and familiar—the predictable cheeseburger, the soggy fries, the plastic toy wrapped in a crinkly bag. To them, that was the highest joy a meal could offer.

And so, we gave in. We bought them Happy Meals. As they sat there, grinning with satisfaction, chomping away at their paper-thin burgers, my wife and I feasted on one of the best meals we had ever eaten. They had no idea what they were missing.

And that is exactly how we treat the Sabbath.

God spreads before us a banquet—a rich, soul-satisfying feast of His presence, a day filled with the nourishment of unhurried worship, the sweetness of communion with Christ, the deep refreshment that only comes from being in the presence of the One who made us.

Yet what do we do? We push it aside.

"I’d rather sleep in."
"I need to catch up on errands."
"There’s a game today."
"Church is too long."

We are those children, sitting at the King’s table with a feast laid before us, and yet we reach for the cheap and familiar instead. We trade the glories of worship for the fleeting, empty distractions of the world. And then we wonder why we are always exhausted, why our souls feel thin, why nothing in life ever seems to bring lasting satisfaction.

The Meal That Christ Took in Our Place

But here is the most astonishing part: Jesus came to save fools like us.

We have spent our lives despising the feast, so He sat at our table instead.

He took our meal—the meal of judgment, the meal of affliction, the meal of wrath. He ate the bitter bread of our rebellion. He drank the sour wine of God's fury. He took the cup that we deserved so that He could place before us the cup of blessing.

And now, every Lord’s Day, we are given a glimpse of that reality.

When we come to the Lord’s Table, we are not merely remembering; we are partaking. Communion is not just a symbol—it is a down payment of the marriage supper of the Lamb. It is a foretaste of the eternal Sabbath that awaits us.

If we have no appetite for worship now, how will we enjoy an eternity filled with it? If we cannot bring ourselves to gather with God’s people today, what makes us think we truly desire to gather around His throne forever? If we always find something better to do on the Lord’s Day, what does that reveal about the affections of our hearts?

Because the truth is, how we treat the Sabbath reveals what we truly love.

The Invitation Still Stands

But there is grace. There is hope.

Christ is still inviting you to the table. The Sabbath is not a burden—it is a gift. A weekly invitation to step out of the madness, to still your heart, to turn your eyes away from the cheap, the empty, the fleeting, and to feast on what is truly good.

He is calling: “Come, weary one. Come and rest.”

So repent. Turn from trivializing His day. Stop settling for crumbs when Christ Himself offers you the feast. Let the Lord’s Day reorient your heart, renew your affections, and awaken your hunger for eternity.

This is the day the Lord has made—a taste of heaven. Love it. Cherish it. Protect it. Delight in it. Because this day points forward to the greater day, the final Sabbath, the day when we will forever be with our Lord.

Amen.