When I was a child, the highlight of the Sabbath was obvious: Sabbath treat. What could be better than cinnamon rolls, apple pies, or home-made donuts, all wedged in around countless handfuls of buttery popcorn? Now that I have put away childish things, I have come to appreciate other things about the Sabbath besides calories. However, I recently realized that the deeper truths of the Sabbath do not have to be completely divorced from the day’s more gastronomical pleasures. I am speaking here of the aforementioned donuts. Specifically, jelly donuts.

The truth I have been reminded of can be summarized in two sentences: Jelly donuts are only found in heaven. In the meantime, we have to deal with donuts that have holes.

A jelly donut is perfection–nothing to eat except yummy donut and filling. Donuts with holes are…not perfection. I am speaking metaphorically, of course. By “holes” I mean things that don’t always work well–in my heart, in my family, in my place of employment, in our churches, and especially in our society. Yes, there is some good in all of these, but sometimes the size of the holes leaves us feeling weak and discouraged.

“Holes” can be old-fashioned sin, or they can take the form of miscommunications, hurt feelings, conflict, lack of vision, or any other expressions of our fallen humanity. The Fall of Adam and Eve punched a hole in the jelly donut called Eden, and we’ve been dealing with the mess ever since.

Sometimes we get really enthusiastic about a new place, a new relationship, a new car, a new job, etc. and for a while it feels like we’ve finally found the elusive jelly donut. Then the other person stumbles, the car gets dinged up, the new job goes south. And…the mirage of the jelly donut disappears–again.

When we get whacked with the holes, we tend to react in predictable ways. I’ve listed a few below:

1. Denial — Hole? What hole?

2. Isolation — I don’t want to be around your holes, so I’m leaving you out. (Or the opposite, I don’t want you to find my holes, so I’m withdrawing from you.)

3. Anger — I can’t believe all these holes and I’m going to get really mad about them.

4. Fear — I’m going to run away whenever a hole appears.

5. Activity — If I work really hard, I can fill in the holes myself.

6. Blame — That hole is all the fault of _______ . (This one often accompanies #3).

7. Despair — There’s no point in anything. Everything I do will end up being full of holes, so what’s the point of trying?

8. Questing — Well, here’s another hole. I’m going to dump this person/church/job and move on to the next one.

There has to be a jelly donut out there somewhere…

Do you have a personal favorite? Maybe it’s something from the list, or maybe your own response of choice that I haven’t listed.

None of these responses are particularly helpful, but we end up defaulting to them more often than not. I actually was working on the list earlier in the week, was interrupted by one of my children who launched an unpleasant conversational topic, and found myself defaulting to #3. Not helpful. (And I should have known better since I was meditating on the exact thing that I was experiencing. But I still reacted. Sad.)

I would like to suggest that we don’t have to end up reacting in ways #1-8. People without God will generally fall into one of those options, but we don’t have to settle for that, even though we often do. Instead, we can choose to react by bringing the holes to God or to others who can speak for God.

We can also choose to bring our holes to the Sabbath Day.

Sabbath rest is liberating because it is admitting that I don’t have what it takes to try to fill in the holes–only God does. Jesus came two thousand years ago and proved that He could fill the deepest hole–that terrible gap between heaven and hell. No man had ever done it or could ever do it, but Jesus took our punishment and built a bridge over the abyss. And He is still at work today. He is filling some holes with sudden power, and other holes with hidden, deliberate care that takes years. In other cases, He allows the surface holes to remain unfilled because He is using that pain to fill deeper holes that spring from pride and self-reliance. He is at work in every one of our holes, and His work is perfect.

When I keep the Sabbath, I am physically acting out trust. I can’t fill holes by my own efforts, I’m not going to try for at least 24 hours, and by relaxing and resting, I’m saying to God: “I trust you to fill this hole, whenever and however you want to.”

And this attitude grows in us a hopeful heart. The Sabbath is a foretaste of the whole world being at rest–with Jesus as King. There will be a day when we will see nothing but jelly donuts in every direction, and even right now we can begin to “taste…the powers of the age to come” (pun intended). In that day, instead of “holes” we will have “wholes.” Whole people, whole families, whole churches, and a whole world. That should give us great hope. We can rest on the Sabbath not just because we are weak, but because He is strong. In the end, every hole will be filled. “And the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea” (Habakkuk 2:14).

So, my friends, as you look around (or within) and see lots of holes, we can still keep a joyful, peaceful Sabbath. The jelly doughnuts are coming, and nothing can change that fact.

Enjoy the Sabbath treat!