I used to think rest was something I had to earn. I’d treat it like a prize at the end of a very long, very exhausting race, a race I wasn't even sure I wanted to be running. For years, I viewed the concept of "Sabbath" through a dusty lens of religious rules. It felt heavy, restrictive, and honestly? Like one more thing on my to-do list.
But then, life happened. The kind of life that leaves you breathless and searching for a shore. In my own healing journey, I realized that I didn’t need another "productivity hack." I needed a sanctuary. I needed to move from a "law of rest" to a "romance with stillness."
That’s when I discovered the beauty of the Sunset Sabbath. It’s not about being "perfectly religious"; it’s about being perfectly present. It’s about a rooted approach to resilience that acknowledges we are human beings, not human doings.
In Genesis 2, we see the blueprint. The Bible says that on the seventh day, God finished His work and rested. But here’s the kicker: the ancient Hebrew word for this rest is Menuha.
Menuha isn’t just the absence of work; it’s a positive, created thing. The sages used to say that on the seventh day, God created "tranquility, serenity, peace, and repose." The universe was actually incomplete until rest was added to it. Think about that for a second. Your life is incomplete without the intentional creation of stillness.
When I started practicing a Sunset Sabbath, beginning the day in the evening, just as the biblical rhythm suggests, it shifted everything. It’s a gift, not a demand. It’s God’s way of saying, "The world can spin without you for a moment. Come, sit with Me."
If you’re anything like me, your "resting" usually looks like scrolling through social media until your eyes burn, or finally catching up on the laundry. That’s not Menuha. That’s just a change of scenery for your stress.
A Sunset Sabbath is an invitation to a romance. It’s a weekly date with your soul and your Creator. It’s about saying "yes" to your own humanity. When we lean into this sacred pause, we aren't just "taking a break"; we are reclaiming our authentic identity from the hands of a world that demands we always be "on."
Whether you’re looking for a self care journal to document this shift or just a moment of quiet, the goal is the same: to find your way back to the light.
You don't need a cathedral or a complicated liturgy. You just need a willing heart and a few intentional shifts. Here is how I manage my weekly transition into peace.
In the biblical rhythm, the day begins in the evening ("And there was evening, and there was morning, the first day"). This is revolutionary. It means your day starts with rest, not with work.
As the sun begins to dip, I make a physical move to signal to my brain that the work-week is over. I close the laptop, put my phone in a dedicated "Sabbath basket," and light a single candle.
We carry so much "unspoken weight" in our bodies. For me, part of my healing journey is acknowledging the burdens I’ve been trying to carry alone. I use this time to clear the mental clutter.
I grab my Still Rising guided journal and spend fifteen minutes doing a "burden dump." I write down the worries, the to-dos, and the heartaches of the week. By putting them on paper, I am physically moving them out of my spirit and into a safe place.
Your body is the temple where this peace lives. You cannot find Menuha if your nervous system is still screaming at 100mph. This step is about sensory shifts.
Change your clothes. Put on that soft linen dress or those cozy socks you keep "for best." I often use a drop of essential oil on my wrists, something earthy like cedarwood or frankincense, to ground myself in the moment. It’s a way of anointing yourself for the rest ahead.
Sabbath is not a fast; it’s a feast. Even if it’s just a simple bowl of soup, make it special. Use the "good" plates. Sit at the table without the distraction of a screen.
During dinner, I practice a "Gratitude Review." I look back at the last six days and find five things I am genuinely thankful for. It’s easy to focus on what went wrong; it takes intention to focus on what went right. This practice shifts your internal atmosphere from scarcity to abundance.
Finally, decide what the "gate" of your Sabbath looks like. What is the one thing that brings you pure, unadulterated joy? For some, it’s reading a book of poetry. For others, it’s a slow walk in the garden or listening to a favorite album.
Choose one "delight" and guard it fiercely. This isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity for a soul that wants to rise with intention. When you allow yourself to delight in something, you are practicing the very essence of Menuha.
Transformation begins when we give ourselves permission to write our own story, and sometimes, the most powerful thing you can write is a period at the end of a long week.
If you are navigating a challenging season, please know that you don't have to navigate it alone. Our Chiedza journals and resources are designed to be your companions in the quiet. Whether it’s the gentle transformation found in Becoming Light or the resilience-building prompts in Still Rising, these tools are here to help you pause, reflect, and rise.
Starting a Sunset Sabbath isn’t about adding another rule to your life. It’s about building a sanctuary in time. It’s about reclaiming your peace so you can show up for your life with clarity, courage, and a heart that is truly at rest.
Are you ready to start your own ritual this week? I’d love to hear what your one "delight" will be. Head over to chiedzaco.com to find the perfect journal to start your journey.
Stay rooted, stay intentional, and keep rising.
