“It was evening, it was morning—Day One.”
I am a good sleeper.
Kendall is an educator in the public schools, just finished with seminary, and is an avid lover of books, nature, and long walks. She is easily distracted by thunderstorms and loves a good conversation over coffee.
I fall asleep easily, and generally have no trouble shutting down my brain and giving in to hours of sleep each night. It is a gift that I don’t take for granted.
Not only am I a good sleeper, I am a very vivid dreamer. I can almost always remember and recount several different dreams I have had. And although occasionally they are bizarre and puzzling–most of the time, I can see exactly where a particular dream came from. Our brains work overtime to file away and organize the experiences, thoughts, and emotions that we experienced during our waking hours. It is a marvel of the human brain!
For those of you who don’t sleep well, I am sorry. Truly. For the purpose of this post, will you pretend like you do? Or journey along with me?
I have wanted to write about sleep for a long time, mostly because I am really intrigued by it. Because, think of how utterly useless we are when we sleep! We are lying unconscious, oblivious to anything and everything around us. Necessarily, our senses shut down, and our body devotes all of its energy to repairing itself. It’s fascinating to study the science behind why we need sleep and how sleep is beneficial. Start with this article, if you’re curious! Biologically, it is an absolute necessity.
I read Tish Harrison Warren’s book The Liturgy of the Ordinary several years ago and her chapter on sleep (along with her chapter on brushing your teeth) has stuck with me ever since. In it, she frames the need for sleep as a recognition of our limits as humans. While we sleep, “we are unable to defend ourselves, to keep ourselves safe, to master the world around us. Sleep exposes reality. We are frail and weak. We need a guide and a guard.”
Ruth Haley Barton writes, “There is something deeply spiritual about honoring the limitations of our existence as human beings–physical bodies in a world of time and space.” She writes specifically about the Sabbath, and I think this carries into our sleep, too.
In a world where we can light up our houses and pretend like night doesn’t exist, it takes practice and discipline to honor the limits of our bodies. Our ancestors didn’t have the option to create day when it was night. For most of human history–this has not been an issue. The sun sets, it is dark. We go to bed—what else could we do in the dark? But in our day, we can turn on all the lights and push through and continue working or watching or scrolling and ignore one of the basic needs of our bodies and minds: Rest.
Recently, I was reading the Genesis account of creation, and noticed that, in verse 5 of chapter 1, after light was created, the author writes, “And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.”
It struck me that, in this account, evening was the first part of the new day, and morning came after. In our modern world, we order our days upon our waking and end it with going to sleep. But for these ancient people, it may have been the other way around. In fact, even today, for many practicing Jews around the world, their Sabbath starts on Friday evening at sundown and continues until sundown on Saturday. Thus, the pattern of night, then morning, continues.
It reminds me of how the ancient Israelites were called to give the firstfruits of their gardens and produce and animals to God. Meaning, the first of what they harvested was given as an offering. It was a way of saying, “I trust that God will provide what I need.”
Will you join me on a thought experiment?
What would it look like to reorient (in our mind, at least) our day? How might things change if we considered evening to be the beginning of each new day?
Here are some things I’ve pondered:
If we flip our thinking and consider evening to be the first part of the day, we start our day by saying, “I will spend the first part of my day resting, trusting God to orchestrate that which I cannot.” God is at work while we sleep. In our bodies, healing that which needs repairing. In our minds, bringing order to the chaos that each day brings.
Spiritually, it makes sense that the God who created us, the God who ordained a 6-day work week, along with an entire day for Sabbath rest, would also have a reason for creating sleep. One-third of our lives are spent sleeping. For those obsessed with productivity–this feels wasteful. But what we fail to realize is that resting for one third of our lives makes the other two-thirds possible. By sleeping, we recognize our limits. By sleeping, we recognize that we are not ultimately in control of everything. By sleeping, we willingly give ourselves over to this restorative process in which we experience a complete loss of control. Maybe this is why some people struggle to sleep?
By reorienting our day to evening first, then morning, we proclaim the following truths:
I am vulnerable and I have limits. I need sleep to function, and I am fully unaware of what is happening around me as I sleep. I willingly give myself over to this, trusting that God watches over me.
Someone is at work while I am not. Sometimes I wake up in the early morning, gaze out at the pitch black world, and think, God is at work while I am asleep. Think about all of the processes at work in our world that are not ordained and run by humans!
Waking and rising and putting forth energy and being productive are second to who I am, not my essence. When we orient our day with morning first, it is easy to fall into the trap of thinking that “I am what I produce”. At the end of the day, we evaluate ourselves based on how effective or productive we were. We then fall into bed exhausted, wondering how we can do better or be better or fix it all tomorrow. But starting our day with sleep honors both our bodies and our Creator. It says, I am willing to slow down and give my body what it needs most. I will honor my limits. And to our Creator, it utters deep trust and reliance upon the way we were created. I am loved and held by a God who holds the universe together as I sleep.
I am rehearsing the truth that I will eventually die and then experience resurrection. Reorienting our day to evening first highlights our place in a much larger story. Sleep–this vulnerable, unconscious state that we succumb to each night–isn’t too far from death. Both Jesus and Paul make a reference to death as “sleep”: Jesus, when talking about Lazarus in John 11:11, and Paul, in 1 Cor. 15:51. They are both merging the two metaphors together. And waking with dawn’s first light replays the centuries-old story of Jesus who was the first fruits of all creation–who died, descended into the darkness for three days–and then was raised again to new life at dawn’s first light. Our sleeping and waking rehearses this humbling and hopeful reality each day.
Ultimately, we are in control of very little. Giving in to sleep each night reminds of this. Sleep can also become a spiritual discipline where we voice our trust in the God who does not sleep. If you join me in this thought experiment, I’d love to hear what you notice and observe.
*Could I offer a caveat? Many people do not sleep well. There are many reasons for this! Medical, biological, hormonal, and situational. If you are not a good sleeper, I am sorry. I hope you do not feel shamed by this post.
**Books mentioned were Tish Harrison Warren’s Liturgy of the Ordinary and Ruth Haley Barton’s Sacred Rhythms. I highly recommend both books!
