It was raining that night in 1952.

Inside the Maverick Concert Hall,

men and women stirred under the gentle chorus of water

falling against the walls of stripped lumber.

Toward the back of the room, where an oak tree had grown through the roof, the warm wind

of the August night gently shifted the dust under their well-worn shoes.

Slowly, and then suddenly, a hush fell over the crowd as the piano player made his way to the front,

each footstep on the stage finding a creaking wooden board.

While they settled in their seats, they watched as John Tudor, a wonderful musician, took his.

It was raining that night in 1952.

As Tudor closed the lid to the piano, covered the keys underneath, took a stopwatch from his pocket, started its ticking hands, and then sat perfectly still, without a sound.

John Cage's composition, four Minutes and 33 seconds, is made up of three movements,

all of them comprised of exactly zero musical notes. For four minutes and 33 seconds, the ambient

sounds of the audience, the sniffles and coughs, the creaks of the room,

and the sounds of traffic from outside make up the piece. For four minutes and 33 seconds,

John Cage thrust the audience into the kind of silence that most people spend their time anxiously avoiding into a moment

where they were forced to stop and listen. Sabbath rest starts with stopping. This is true

for all of us, whether you have a week to rest or an hour or the next 10 minutes.

The first step is to press pause.

Not to abandon your responsibilities or worries, but to move them to the side and make space

again for God to sit front and center.

In a world full of distractions, Sabbath begins with intentionally breaking away from the normal rhythms for the sake of a new one.

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