Reclaiming Sabbath in a Burnout Culture

“Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy” (Ex. 20:8).

Of all the Ten Commandments, this might be the one that contemporary Christians most consistently ignore. We’ve found creative ways to honor God, avoid murder, and respect our parents. But Sabbath? That command seems almost quaint in our perpetually connected, productivity-obsessed culture.

Recently, while counseling a young professional struggling with burnout, I asked about her rhythm of rest. She laughed nervously. “Rest is what happens when I pass out at night after checking my work emails,” she admitted. When I gently suggested she consider implementing a Sabbath practice, her expression revealed genuine confusion. “Is that really practical today? I mean, doesn’t God understand how busy we are?”

Her question reflects a common misconception: that Sabbath is a luxury we can no longer afford in modern society. Yet Scripture presents Sabbath not as an optional spiritual practice, but as a command woven into creation itself. After six days of creative work, God rested—not from exhaustion, but to establish a pattern for humanity (Gen. 2:1-3). The rhythm of work and rest reflects God’s design for human flourishing.

The Reformed tradition historically has emphasized this understanding. John Calvin viewed Sabbath as having three purposes: providing spiritual rest for worship, offering physical rest from labor, and prefiguring our eternal rest in Christ. For Calvin, Sabbath wasn’t merely about attending church, but about cultivating practices that oriented our whole lives toward God.

Yet somewhere along the way, many Christians—especially in North America—began treating Sabbath as either legalistic rulekeeping or an outdated concept. In Canada and the United States, “blue laws” that once preserved Sunday as a common day of rest have largely disappeared, replaced by 24/7 commerce and constant digital connectivity.

We find ourselves in a paradoxical situation: we’re simultaneously working more hours while feeling less productive, more connected via technology while experiencing more isolation, and more “efficient” while reporting record levels of burnout and mental health challenges.

Perhaps we need to reconsider Sabbath not as an antiquated religious obligation, but as a life-giving countercultural practice—a resistance against the false gods of productivity, consumption, and hurry.

What might this look like practically?

For some families I know in Michigan, Sabbath means a 24-hour period without screens or scheduled activities. They play board games, take unhurried walks, and read together.

A couple in Vancouver practices “Sabbath economics” by abstaining from all consumer purchases one day each week, reminding themselves that their security comes from God, not consumption.

A single professional in Chicago dedicates four hours every Sunday afternoon to what she calls “useless beauty”—activities with no productive purpose, such as playing piano, writing poetry, or simply sitting in silence.

A family in Toronto sets aside Saturday as their Sabbath, beginning with a special meal Friday evening and concluding with another on Saturday night, incorporating elements from Jewish Sabbath traditions that connect them to Jesus’ own practices.

None of these examples represents a perfect model for everyone. Sabbath looks different across cultures, life stages, and individual circumstances. Health care workers, pastors, farmers with animals to tend, and parents of young children need flexibility in their approach to Sabbath rest.

The point isn’t rigid rule-following, but cultivating a countercultural rhythm that acknowledges our limitations and our dependence on God. Sabbath reminds us we are more than what we produce, that God’s world continues functioning when we step away, and that our ultimate identity rests in being loved by God rather than in what we accomplish.

In a culture constantly pushing us toward more productivity, faster responses, and greater efficiency, perhaps the most radical act of faith is to stop—regularly and intentionally—and remember whose we are.

Discussion Questions

1. What negative and/or positive stereotypes about Sabbath-keeping have you heard or experienced?
2. When was the last time you fully rested and unplugged for a day? How was your experience? How did you feel? If you have never done so, why?
3. Do you agree with the author that our culture makes idols of “productivity, consumption, and hurry”? Why or why not?
4. What are some practical steps you will intentionally take to reclaim the Sabbath for yourself?