My Sabbath Season
By Erin Greneaux
August in south Louisiana is a crucible. The heat is oppressive, hot and heavy like a thick blanket threatening to suffocate. In the same way much of the country huddles indoors at the peak of winter, we shelter in the air conditioning for the height of summer.
Weeds take over the flowerbeds, but I’m not about to do the sweat-drenching work to combat them until fall. The heat saps my energy, drains my ability to function, and inhibits my determination. It is grueling.
A SABBATH YEAR
Louisiana August feels a lot like the try-hard life where I naturally revert. I am an achiever, and pushing through against all odds is built into my being. I am determined, working to the limits of my capacity, challenging the voices that doubt me and reveling in the ones that ask how I do it all. Similar to the sweltering summer heat, this striving life is insufferable.
In 2024, God called me to take a Sabbath year. I didn’t know what that meant or what it would look like. Rest alone is difficult, and a year of full-stop seemed impossible, but I obeyed. I canceled all author events, called off my two planned book releases, stopped my podcast and weekly devotions, and set my royalty rates to zero.
I knew I needed a framework for deciphering which activities could remain, and one phrase rose to the surface. “Nothing for personal gain.” After scrutinizing my activities, plans, and to-do lists, this filter didn’t leave much.
God knew how much I needed a relaxing year of rest. Or so I thought. In reality, He knew that unless I stopped everything else, I wouldn’t hear His voice. I needed to be still and acknowledge Him with no distractions, because He had something important to say.
I imagined my Sabbath year would feel like spring, a lighthearted, happy skipping through fields of wildflowers with Jesus and napping by still waters in green pastures. That wasn’t what God had in mind. It turned out to be a full year of a sweltering Louisiana August.
UPROOTING WEEDS
The Holy Spirit pointed to the weeds of sin growing unchecked in my soul, weeds I had overlooked in my vigor to serve others and help them grow. God dug up the depths of my heart, and it wasn’t pretty. The largest culprit was pride, and the reality of its rampant growth was oppressive. Selfish desires trailed under every thought and action. The process of uprooting it was overwhelming, and I was powerless to wrangle this infestation on my own.
There are benefits to the humid test of wills in August. It is in the crucible, the refining fire of southern summer that we purge the waste from our souls. In the same way that sweat releases toxins from the body, this process of failing against sin’s encroachment creates space for something beautiful. When we finally face the invasive lies and admit defeat in our own power, Jesus steps in.
His forgiveness rushes in like the first cool breeze of fall, so unexpected and longed for that it lifts our head and prompts a sigh of relief. The humbling gift of grace when we least deserve it brings the lasting peace our try-hard life chases but never delivers. Coming to the end of ourselves with empty hands is the ultimate humiliation, the one necessary for embracing what only God can give.
Coming to the end of ourselves with empty hands is the ultimate humiliation, the one necessary for embracing what only God can give.
BRUTAL HONESTY & A GENTLE GRACE
While the Holy Spirit’s brutal honesty is excruciating, it is welcomed pain, because it doesn’t stem from condemnation or shame. It accompanies an unfathomable love and gentle grace. God cares too deeply to let us live blind to our sin. He has too much planned to let anything come between His child and the blessings He longs to bestow. He loves us too much to let anything hinder our relationship with Him.
He loves us too much to let anything hinder our relationship with Him.
August in Louisiana is the least appreciated month, just as confession and repentance are the most underrated parts of the Christian life. They are the crucible that is almost unbearable, but usher in the life-giving breath of God. The refining fire of raw honesty is deadly, but only to the parts that rob us of abundant life.
Whatever sin clutches your soul today, it is no match for God’s pursuit. Lean into His invitation to enter the fire. The crisp relief of freedom is just on the other side of the flames.
And I will put this third into the fire, and refine them as one refines silver, and test them as gold is tested. They will call upon my name, and I will answer them. I will say, ‘They are my people’; and they will say, ‘The Lord is my God.’”
Zechariah 13:9, ESV
About Erin
Erin Greneaux is an award-winning author, host of the Sunday God Meets Monday Mom podcast, and mom to three girls who make every day an adventure. She loves working in the garden, and finds her best inspiration while digging in the dirt. Erin is passionate about exploring the practical application of faith in everyday life. She uses writing to take Biblical ideas and present them in a way that is clear, creative, and captivating. Her published works include fiction, non-fiction, poetry, and even a game!
Follow Erin’s work:
Website: https://www.greneauxgardens.com
Substack: https://substack.com/@eringreneaux
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/greneauxgardens
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/eringreneaux/
Amazon author page: https://www.amazon.com/author/eringreneaux
Erin’s devos on the Bible app:
https://www.bible.com/organizations/1f694f0c-8459-4d43-8f48-7eec96a64c3c