When Heaven Is Silent On The Sabbath | The Mystery Of God’s Rest Amid Our War

The sun was falling behind the mountains of Nevada, bleeding gold and scarlet across the desert horizon. The sukkah I had built stood quietly under the fading light — simple, fragile, open to the sky. Palm branches rustled above me as the wind whispered through the cracks, carrying the dry scent of dust and sage. I had just finished singing, “Blessed are You, Adonai our God, King of the universe, who sanctifies us with His commandments and commands us to dwell in the sukkah.”

It was Sukkot — the time of joy, the Feast of Booths. A time when Israel rejoices before the LORD for seven days. But that evening, joy was mingled with trembling.

Because that was the day I was attacked.

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The Attack

It happened so suddenly. A group of strangers — angry, shouting, eyes wild with hatred — stormed into the park where I was quietly celebrating. My lulav fell to the ground. I tried to speak, to calm them, but before I could utter a word of peace, one of them struck me. Pain seared through my ribs. My etrog rolled away into the dirt as their fists descended.

I cried out — not only from pain but from confusion.

“Why, Adonai? On Your holy day? During Your feast? Why when I am keeping Your commandment to rejoice before You?”

I stumbled away, bruised and bleeding, as sirens wailed in the distance.

And in my heart, a question echoed like thunder:

“Why does the Holy One command us to rest, yet allows our enemies to attack us while we rest?”

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The Mystery of the Sabbath War

As I sat later beneath the stars, clutching my bruised side, I thought of the ancient stories — of Israel attacked not once, but many times, on holy days.

Jews slaughtered on Yom Kippur in Manchester.

Jews murdered on Rosh Hashanah in Israel.

And now, here I was — a lone worshipper in Nevada — attacked during Sukkot.

I whispered the question that had burned in countless hearts before mine:

“Why does God command rest when the world is at war?”

And suddenly, I remembered the Torah portion that always puzzled me:

> “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work,

but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the LORD your God. In it you shall do no work.”

(Exodus 20:8–10)

Rest. No work. No defense. No weapons in hand.

Yet throughout history, it was on these very days of peace that enemies struck — when Israel seemed most vulnerable.

And the LORD had known this would happen. Still, He said, “Rest.”

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The Shadow of an Ancient Battle

I turned to the book of Exodus again, and my eyes caught a passage I had read countless times, but that night, it struck me like lightning.

> “And Amalek came and fought with Israel in Rephidim.” (Exodus 17:8)

Israel had just come out of Egypt. They were exhausted, thirsty, and resting when Amalek attacked — striking the weak, the weary, and the stragglers. It was the first war Israel faced as a free nation.

And how did they win? Not by the sword alone.

> “And it came to pass, when Moses held up his hand, that Israel prevailed: and when he let down his hand, Amalek prevailed.” (Exodus 17:11)

When Moses’ hands were lifted to heaven — when Israel looked upward, not outward — the battle turned.

The mystery deepened. Could it be that God allows war on His holy days not to punish us, but to reveal something eternal?

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The Silence of the Sukkah

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The stars burned bright above the open roof of my sukkah, and I thought of how exposed I was — no locks, no walls, no roof to hide beneath.

The sukkah is fragile by design. It is a confession that we live under the mercy of Heaven.

And suddenly, I understood something that shook me to my core.

The rest of Shabbat and the joy of Sukkot are not just commandments — they are acts of defiance.

Every time we rest, every time we rejoice, we are declaring before heaven and earth:

> “Adonai is our shelter.”

Not our weapons.

Not our money.

Not our walls.

The sukkah — that trembling booth — is Israel’s battle cry.

And maybe… just maybe… that’s why the enemy hates it so much.

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When Heaven Seems Silent

Still, the pain lingered. “But why, LORD? Why allow it?” I whispered again.

The desert wind answered with a sigh. And then, a verse from the words of Yeshua came to me:

> “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

(Matthew 5:10)

And another:

> “They will deliver you up to tribulation and kill you, and you will be hated by all nations for My name’s sake.”

(Matthew 24:9)

Yeshua had foretold this — not as a curse, but as a sign. He had said it would happen, not because the Father had forsaken us, but because we bear His Name in a world that hates His truth.

And yet, He also said:

> “In the world you will have tribulation. But be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.”

(John 16:33)

The world attacks on holy days because the holy days are prophetic — they are rehearsals for the Kingdom that is coming.

When we rest, we remind the universe that our true strength is not in motion, but in stillness before God.

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The Fire in the Stillness

In the morning, as the sun rose again over the desert, I stood once more inside my battered sukkah. My body still ached, but my heart was no longer afraid.

Because I understood something the world cannot see:

Rest is not weakness.

It is warfare.

When we cease from striving, we are proclaiming that the God of Israel reigns — even when the nations rage.

The LORD Himself fought for Israel on a Sabbath before. When Joshua faced the walls of Jericho, the people were told not to fight with swords, but to march and shout.

The walls fell — not by power, but by obedience.

And Yeshua, our Messiah, healed on the Sabbath — not breaking it, but fulfilling its meaning.

For He said:

> “It is lawful to do good on the Sabbath.” (Matthew 12:12)

Even as He hung on the cross, the world mocked Him during Passover — a feast day. But by resting in the tomb on the Sabbath, He fulfilled the mystery:

God’s power is revealed not in our struggle, but in His rest.

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The Revelation

So now, when I hear of Jews attacked on Yom Kippur, or on Rosh Hashanah, or when I feel my own wounds from Sukkot, I remember:

Every time the enemy attacks during a feast, it is a sign that those appointed times still shake the kingdom of darkness.

Because they are not mere rituals — they are prophecies in motion.

And the adversary knows: when Israel rests, the LORD rises.

> “The LORD will fight for you, and you shall hold your peace.” (Exodus 14:14)

So we rest.

We rejoice.

We build our sukkah in the open, even when the world threatens to tear it down.

Because the One who watches over Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps. (Psalm 121:4)

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The Cliffhanger: The Night the Sky Opened

That final night of Sukkot, I sat once more in my fragile booth. The bruises had faded, but my heart was burning with new strength.

The desert was silent, save for the rustling of palm branches. Then, suddenly — a wind rose. It wasn’t cold or harsh. It carried a fragrance I can’t describe — something ancient, holy.

The walls of my sukkah trembled. The stars seemed to draw closer.

And in that stillness, I heard what I can only describe as a whisper that filled the heavens:

“Do not fear, My child. I rest with you.”

And then, a streak of light tore across the sky — brilliant, blinding, like the flash of a sword.

The same desert that once echoed with violence now glowed with peace.

Was it an angel? A vision? A sign of the times?

I don’t know.

But I do know this — the One who commanded rest in the midst of war is preparing to return as the LORD of Hosts.

And when He comes, every enemy that struck during the feast days will tremble before the Feast of all Feasts — the Wedding Supper of the Lamb.

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“Be still, and know that I am God;

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth.”

(Psalm 46:10)

And that — that is why we rest.

Even when the battle rages.

Even when the enemies strike.

Even when we don’t understand.

Because one day soon, the whole earth will rest.

And on that day… the silence of heaven will thunder with victory.