An Incredible Gift: The Fox Family Sabbatical
Our time away exceeded my family’s expectations. We were doing little better than limping to the end of what felt like a marathon when our sabbatical began. Ashley was five months pregnant, two boys under 4, and work being as busy and fun as ever made for a full calendar week in and week out. Initially, I thought I’d be carrying a lot of energy into the excitement of sabbatical but the Lord knew the real gift would be a much slower pace and the space to rest and reflect.
To quickly recap our travels…
Tanner went fly fishing in Tennessee
Family Beach Weekend at New Smyrna Beach
2.5 Weeks north of Grand Rapids, Michigan on the Lake
Mom and Dad got away to Traverse city and Portland (BY OURSELVES—Thanks, Grandparents!)
More Beach time at New Smyrna
Shark Tooth Hunting at Caspersen Beach, FL (SO FUN!)
Countless hours Golfing, Swimming, Going to the Park, etc…
As you can see, we spent a considerable amount of time outside throughout our sabbatical. Whether we were lakeside in Michigan, poolside at home, or beachside on Florida’s coasts, the sun and fresh air were healing to our bodies and minds. Most mornings we awoke to no real agenda other than trying to have fun with the kids! The boys had such a delightful time fishing, swimming, building sandcastles, hitting golf balls and baseballs, and so much more. Our time away in various locations always felt long, but never quite too long. If we felt any ache, it was the ache of missing people—more than growing weary of the places we chose.
One morning, during our time in Michigan, Jack curled up in my lap with tears in his eyes and said, “Can we go home? I miss my friends.”
The cry of Jack’s little heart was the only real sadness of sabbatical. No one tells you that it can actually feel somewhat lonely. The idea is to disconnect and rest from all the responsibilities of life and church, but when your vision of ministry has everything to do with pouring your heart into relationships, you discover the line between work and delight is a little blurrier than you might have guessed. In some ways, it felt like I was the only person in my friend group or community who had “retired.” I knew the break was good. I knew the space would make the heart grow fonder. But there was still some sadness in having limited access to so many of the people who bring the most joy and peace to my life. Needless to say, jumping back into this community these first few days has been a sweet reminder of all the ways this place feels like home.
Here are some of the things that bubbled to the surface for me over these last 10 weeks…
I came to a full stop.
This was the first season in my life I can remember when no one outside my immediate family could require any work, effort, grade, or goals from me. My wife and boys had my attention, but it wasn’t the stress-inducing, time-managing, grind-to-produce-something-great sort of attention. It was slower, more gentle, more full of love and grace. It was a summer where I could focus on the delight of my family rather than the demands of a career.
It was a summer where I woke up each morning without having to prove a single thing to anyone—which allowed me to be present with my kids in all the ways a 2 and 4-year-old need.
I had time for my hobbies (golf, tinkering in the garage, trying out violin, thrift shopping) and still had plenty of time to love and be loved by my wife and boys. It became sacred to us precisely because of how mundane it was. It was connecting because we were simply doing most everything together. We had plenty of hard moments, but the delight outweighed any difficulties. I love my family so very much and have an even deeper appreciation for the gift they are to me.
Life became unhurried.
It slowed in all the ways I want my life and heart to remain unhurried, even now that I’m back. The stuff of life weighed the proper amount again; priorities clicked into their rightful places rather than being held out of place by my own hands or the hands of others. It may have taken a sabbatical to teach me the gift of Sabbath. I grew a deeper hunger to honor Sabbath and to consecrate a day each week for rest, grace, joy, and delight with my family and friends.
I realized I’d be okay if I wasn’t a pastor my whole life.
Not that I want to do anything else, but if it went away—if I no longer got to preach or teach, if I never stood in front of a room full of people again—I would still be okay. Calling is tricky because it can enmesh with identity. But all sabbatical long, I was reminded of how much I am a child of God, how much He loves me, and how much the gospel is still true even if I’m not paid to talk about it. His grace is sweet, His presence is sure, and I am His—whether I’m called “Pastor” or simply “Tanner.” What a gift that is.
I had gospel conversations in unexpected places.
Uber drivers, waiters, thrift-store clerks, random golf-course pairings—each conversation had its own flavor, but the general themes remained the same: hunger, longing, questions, and a lack of steadfast conviction. Each person shared about the ways they’re trying to navigate life, marriage, parenting, work… often with openness born from knowing they don’t have it all figured out. These unhurried, curious conversations with non-believers were life-giving and made me crave more spaces like them. Sabbatical gave me time to slow down, to be kind, and to be curious. I want that to continue.
I saw more clearly my heart’s bent toward comparison.
When I was ejected from my normal rhythms with no goals or tasks, I realized how often I measure a day’s worth by what I got done—and whether I did it better or worse than others. Constant measuring, constant wondering who I’m better than and who I’m worse than.
This habit breeds loneliness. It’s hard to truly love others when you’re busy ranking them above or below yourself. Maybe the better way to say it is that my heart puts some people above and some below—but no one alongside me. It’s a loneliness of my own making, and seeing it so clearly this summer brought both sadness and a longing for change.
So I’m working on trading scarcity, fear, and comparison for abundance, gladness, and a deep appreciation for the people with whom I live, work, and play.
There’s so much more I could share, but this is already getting long. If I had to sum it up, I’d say this has been one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever been given, and I am deeply grateful to our church for making it a priority for pastors. I believe I learned some things I could not have learned any other way. I know my wife is abundantly grateful for a summer of me being home. And I know my boys were given a gift they may never fully understand—the joy of such robust family time for an entire summer.
Thank you again. And thanks for welcoming us home! 😊
To connect further with Rev. Fox, visit fpco.org/men
“There remains, then, a Sabbath-rest for the people of God; for anyone who enters God’s rest also rests from their works, just as God did from his. Let us, therefore, make every effort to enter that rest…” Hebrews 4:9-11