Sabbath in the Blue Ridge Mountains
Wednesday, October 7, 2026
written by Kate Satterstrom
This week, I find myself in Montreat, North Carolina. Savvy readers might recognize Montreat as the place where our high school students attend a youth conference every other summer. For those of us in the Presbyterian world, Montreat is a bit like Presbyterian Mecca, a beloved gathering place where generations of Presbyterians have come together for worship, learning, friendship, and a little bit of mountain magic.
I’m here for the Presbyterian Youth Workers Association (PYWA) annual gathering. This is my sixth and final year serving on the PYWA board and executive team. I’m grateful to have the opportunity to help plan this year’s gathering and lead a couple of workshops.
While my time in Montreat is for work, it also gives me an opportunity to change my pace. To slow down for a few days, take a deep breath, reconnect with friends from around the country, and meet with people doing ministry in all corners of the PC(USA). The changing leaves and crisp autumn air are an added bonus.
I have found that there are some places where God feels extra close. Montreat is one of those places. It is a place where moments feel divinely orchestrated, where peace seems to permeate the air, where conversations hit differently, where laughter recharges you, and where worship speaks directly to your soul.
Theologically, we know the importance of rest. In fact, Sabbath is woven into the very fabric of our faith as one of the Ten Commandments. And yet, the world around us tells us to strive for more, do better than our best, work harder, and never quit. We are encouraged to be productive, accomplish more, and make the most of every moment. Sure, we give time to worship on Sunday mornings, but when do we actually rest?
I think it is important to intentionally counter that message by putting on the brakes every now and then. To step away from the constant striving and simply be present.
Sabbath looks different for every person. Maybe Sunday morning isn’t the time of Sabbath it is assumed to be. Maybe your work schedule provides an alternative Sabbath time. Maybe this season of life feels a little too full, leaving Sabbath to be found in unexpected moments. Or maybe grief steals your quiet moments, and Sabbath comes in more formal settings.
Wherever you are, whatever season you are in, your Sabbath is unique to you. But that doesn’t make it any less important.
Right now, my Sabbath looks like a gathering of Christian educators in a small town in the Blue Ridge Mountains. As I write this, a red jay is chirping outside my window. The sounds of kids playing on a nearby playground drift on the wind. The trees are restless, dancing in the breeze, while conversations among friends preparing dinner provide my background noise.
These are the things I am often too busy to notice. And yet, when I take the time to stop, I am reminded that these seemingly ordinary things are often the most important ones.
Maybe that is part of what Sabbath invites us to do: not simply stop working, but stop long enough to notice. To pay attention. To receive the gifts that are already around us.
Maybe sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is simply slow down long enough to realize that God is already there.