There are people coming over after church, and food needs cooking. The dishes all need to be hand-dried, and the youngest needs to change his clothes for church.
I stand, up to my elbows in suds, and wonder what happened to Sunday– to the Sabbath. Why does it feel so much like a different arrangement of the normal business? What takes the Lord's Day, and turns it into a day for human struggling?
I sit with my family in the pew. We kneel with the rest of the church and confess our sinfulness. I think about how I failed my family, my friends, my Lord, this week. I decide to do better. But again, this day of rest becomes a day of my efforts to achieve...
The guests are gone. I am washing dishes again, and as I plunge every single punch glass beneath the water I feel like that– plunged. Up and down. School tomorrow, and the test this week that could just pull my grade up to an A. Violin lesson tomorrow, and the hope that I'll gain one of those rare approving phrases from my teacher. And Sunday becomes a day to worry about tomorrow.
But my Lord never worried.
And this day– Sunday, is for worship of Him. It should look, and be, different. As a wise friend told my worried self yesterday, I need to think on what is true, over and over again.
Until it changes my conscience!
The only way to know what is true is to read the Word.
And so I read, "Blessed is the man who does this, And the son of man who lays hold on it; Who keeps from defiling the Sabbath, And keeps his hand from doing any evil.” ~Isaiah 56:2
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