Pause and Praise
Published January 30, 2026
Leviticus 24-27
Friday, January 30, 2026 | Claressa Barrett
Two years ago, the word the Lord placed on my heart was selah. It’s a Hebrew word, often found in the Psalms, meaning to pause and praise. In other words, God was calling me to stop—to intentionally pause and worship Him, even when life feels frantic. Selah…even when there never seem to be enough hours in the day.
So what does this have to do with Leviticus? God had already instructed Israel to remember the Sabbath and set it apart as holy (Exodus 20:8–11). They were to work six days and rest on the seventh—an appointed time every week (Leviticus 23:2–3). But God went further. In Leviticus 25, He commanded a sabbatical year every seventh year, when the land itself was to rest.
So what does this have to do with Leviticus? God had already instructed Israel to remember the Sabbath and set it apart as holy (Exodus 20:8–11). They were to work six days and rest on the seventh—an appointed time every week (Leviticus 23:2–3). But God went further. In Leviticus 25, He commanded a sabbatical year every seventh year, when the land itself was to rest.
Then came the Year of Jubilee—every fiftieth year—when the people were not to work the land at all. That meant, practically speaking, two years in a row without planting or harvesting. If your food came directly from the ground, how would you respond? God knew then—and He knows now—that we are forgetful people. The Sabbaths and appointed times were given to help Israel remember what God had done and how desperately they needed Him.
Ultimately, the Sabbath was pointing forward to Jesus Christ. Israel labored endlessly to make themselves acceptable to God, resting only briefly before starting again. But “when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, He sat down” (Hebrews 10:12).
Because of His finished work, we now have lasting rest in Him (Hebrews 4). Even in commanding rest, God promised provision (Leviticus 25:19–22).
The real issue was trust.
And that question remains for us today. I’ve realized my struggle to selah isn’t just busyness—it’s pride. It’s a lack of trust that God will provide when I stop striving. How about you?