What should have been a 15-minute walk to the beach turned into a 45-minute stroll, our boys meandering the long dirt road leading to town from our rental home in Cabarete, Dominican Republic.
Our two-year-old, Abe, yelped with glee upon spotting each dog and motorcycle (it was a lot of yelping) along the way. Our six-year-old, Desmond, exchanged holas with our neighbors, confidently deploying one of the ten Spanish words he’s devoted to memory. Our two-month-old, June, enjoyed a siesta as she bounced along with me in the baby carrier.
We reached our home in Cabarete earlier this week after a long, red-eye journey to get here. For two months, this Dominican beach town will be home. We live next door to a man who sells trinkets to tourists on the beach and across from a man who drives a mototaxi for his livelihood. Our home is beautiful, borderig Parque Nacional El Choco. Vistas of the sprawling lagoons linger outside each window, beckoning us to load up the kiddos in the canoes.
Baby June: An exemplar of rest.
In Cabarete, we live at the nexus of two worlds. In this town are the heights of global prosperity and all its accompaniments. Beautiful gated resorts line the beaches, kitesurfing excursions entice thrill seekers, and breathtaking waterfront restaurants serve bounty from the sea. And, in the shadows and side streets, prostitution runs amok. In just a few days, we’ve already seen it evidenced. And, with a wide wealth gap between the tourists and most of the Dominicans we’ll meet, these two worlds exist in a harmonious tension.
It’s in this diverse town where we’re taking sabático. I crossed ten years with HOPE in June. And, with the $3,000 milestone gift awarded HOPE employees upon reaching ten years, we rented this home for two months. Here, we’ll canoe the lagoons, adventure to the beaches, and host family in our Dominican home.
Andy Crouch once said sabbatical (and Sabbath) are designed by God as “circuit breakers for idolatry.” The idol we worship, of course, is our work. Paid or unpaid, it is a longstanding human tradition to elevate the importance of our daily work to unhealthy levels. When something good becomes something ultimate, you’ve got an idol. And it’s Crouch’s view that most of us wait till we retire to actually practice sabbatical. Crouch’s counsel is to work longer—but healthier—by taking Sabbath more like the every-seven-years prescription outlined by God for his people (and not just the priests and professional clergy!).
Ten years into my work at HOPE, it’s easy for my good work at HOPE to feel ultimate. And, I hate to even write it, but I can even feel indispensable. I’m not, of course. But it’s easy for feelings of my own importance to undermine my dependence upon God and others for the good work I do. Thus, it’s time to break that circuit. For two months, most of my job will be done by the capable leaders around me.
A sabbatical is not something I deserve. It is something I need. A sabbatical is not something God mandates to constrain my work, but rather an exercise to position my work in its rightful role in my heart and life. Paid clergy and professors are decent at taking sabbatical, I’ve found. But, the rest of us? Not so much.
So, for two months I will rest, read, adventure with my family, and begin work on my next book project with Peter Greer.
So, now the work of detaching begins. For nine weeks, I’ll be much more unplugged. If you want to reach me, a carrier pigeon sent to Cabarete might be your best option. Till May, bendiciones, amigos.