So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it God rested from all his work that he had done on creation.
Two equally confounding mysteries confront me as I read this Scripture, and I can’t make heads or tails of either: that God worked in creation, and that God rested. Have you ever stopped to ponder that, friend? I tend to imagine creation in the way Tolkien fictionalized it in The Silmarillion or Lewis described it in The Magician’s Nephew, as if God sung the words rather than dictated them, yet that still doesn’t eliminate the dilemma. Because the question isn’t how God delivered the words, but how that delivery could be called work, and why, if it wasn’t work, it still required rest. We can either erroneously conceive of God’s work as effortless and that He never weighs options before acting; or we can erroneously conceive of God’s work as tiresome and that He needs rest like we do.
But friend, our Father’s thoughts and ways are immeasurably higher than our thoughts and ways, and He doesn’t ask us as His little children to comprehend them. He just asks us to imitate Him, and the more we follow His mastery, the more we’ll understand the mysteries.