Sometimes the Sabbath leads us not just into rest, but into rediscovery—of nature, of family, and of the God who still whispers peace to weary hearts. This is the story of a man who climbed a mountain expecting silence and found something greater: renewal.

By Raffy Castillo

The Climb of Escape

For most of his forty-five years, Joel V had lived in the city’s roar.
He was a marketing executive in Makati, always on his phone, always chasing numbers, always awake.
His body ran on caffeine and adrenaline; his heart ran on empty.

When his doctor told him that his blood pressure was dangerously high and his ECG showed strain, he laughed nervously. “I’ll rest after the next (marketing) campaign,” he said.

But one Friday night, after missing yet another family dinner, his teenage son simply said, “Dad, when will we see you without your laptop?”

That question stayed longer than any board meeting.

The Sabbath Invitation

The next morning, Joel’s wife handed him a packed bag and said, “Let’s keep the Sabbath the way we used to—with a walk in nature.”

They drove to Tagaytay, leaving behind the glow of screens for the shimmer of sunrise. It was Saturday, the Sabbath day—a day to breathe again.

As they hiked a gentle trail leading to a small hill overlooking Taal Lake, Joel felt awkward without his phone. His fingers twitched to check notifications, but the only signal he found was birdsong.

“Maybe,” his wife said softly, “that’s the message you were meant to receive.”

The Silence That Spoke

At the summit, the view opened wide: clouds drifting lazily, the water below glinting like glass, and the wind carrying the scent of pine and prayer.
Joel sat on a rock, his heart still pounding—but not from stress this time, from wonder.

For the first time in years, he prayed not with words, but with tears.

He remembered Psalm 121:

“I lift up my eyes to the hills—where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.”

The Sabbath had found him on a mountain, and it was healing him in silence.

The Physiology of Peace

As his breathing slowed, so did his heartbeat.
Science confirms what Scripture reveals: when we step into nature and rest, the body resets.
Studies show that even two hours spent outdoors can lower cortisol, reduce heart rate, and boost immune function.
But Joel didn’t know the data—he only knew that the ache in his chest was finally easing.

He looked at his wife, smiling for the first time in weeks. “I think this is what peace feels like,” he said.

The Descent and the Decision

As they descended the mountain, Joel felt lighter—not just in body, but in spirit. He resolved to make every Sabbath sacred again: no business calls, no emails, no rush. Just rest, worship, and the people who mattered most.

Back home, he began a new routine: on Fridays, he shut off his phone at sunset. On Saturdays, he read, walked, prayed, or simply stayed present.

His blood pressure normalized. His temper softened. His family noticed. His wife told him, “You used to bring work home; now you bring peace.”

He smiled. “I climbed a mountain to find it,” he said. “But it was always waiting inside me.”

The Mountain That Moves

Months later, Joel returned to the same spot in Tagaytay—alone this time, to give thanks. The air was cool, the sky ablaze with gold. He closed his eyes and whispered,
“Lord, thank You for teaching me to climb down from the mountains of ambition… into the valleys of peace.”

That Sabbath became a turning point—not a day off, but a day on purpose.

Reflection: Where the Heart Rests

The Sabbath reminds us that true ascent begins in stillness.
When we honor God’s rhythm—six days of work, one day of rest—we find that the climb toward success means little without the calm of the spirit.

Every Sabbath invites us to pause, breathe, and look again at creation—because sometimes, the view from peace is the highest peak of all.