For Sabbath rest to make sense we first have to see the restlessness of the world. What was true of ancient empires (Egypt, Babylon, and Rome) is true of us as well: we do not know how to be still, and we don’t like to be still. The arrogance of the Tower of Babel, the slave-driving of Egypt, the hungry aggression of the Babylonians, and later the ruthless “peace” of the Romans, have much in common with the modern way of life: anxiety, ceaseless movement, a drive for achievement and greatness, oppression, lust for power, and an insatiable desire for more stuff.

If we see this restlessness clearly, then we can see the Sabbath as not just some ancient rule for Jews and Christians, but as the door to a different kind of world. The Sabbath leads us to look at life and everything we have as gifts, rather than scarce resources we have to fight and scrabble over. It calls us, not to a lazy life of porch sitting or a blur of constant toil and responsibility, but to a pattern of work and life-giving rest. It opens up God’s alternative to slavery: independence and equality of opportunity for all, not as disconnected individuals, but as communities and especially as households. And best, the weekly Sabbath points us to the Sabbath: the rest that awaits all God’s people, the rest that God enjoys himself, which we will enter if we persevere (Heb. 4:11).

Daniel Howe, Worship, Feasting Rest, Mercy: The Christian Sabbath, 5-6.