Mondays. Ugh.
Usually, Mondays aren’t a terrible bother for me; at least, not in the way our culture typically looks at Mondays. My mind may not always be at the top of its game, but I don’t dread a Monday morning. I think many people do, simply because they despise what they do for a living. I don’t.
However, this morning is proving difficult so far. Not because something drastic has happened and all of a sudden I “hate” what I do. I love pastoral ministry. No, I believe it’s because my tank is empty. Kaput. Drained. Depleted.
Yesterday was another delightful Lord’s Day. Yet it was only by God’s grace that I was able to get through it. When God told the apostle Paul that His grace was sufficient for him, He meant it. I believe that same grace has been extended to me as well and it is more than sufficient. Yesterday I needed it. The night previous, our neighbors had a birthday party for their little girl. She turned one year old, so it was apparently a big deal. I’m just not sure the one year old appreciated it that much. I’m talking until “two-thirty in the morning much.” This was the kind of party that is way more for the parents esteem in their community of friends and family than it is about the little girl. After all, she’s one and won’t remember any of this without the aid of photos and stories. Usually, if there’s something going on late in our cul-de-sac, I can ignore it and go to sleep (my “ignore reflex” never left me from those days as an infant). But not when there’s is music blaring from the garage, which happens to be on the bedroom side of our house. Not when there’s lots of very loud talking and laughing, seeking to be heard over the loud, blaring music that was playing from the garage, which happens to be on the bedroom side of our house. And definitely not when there are still lots of little children, running through the yard, right beneath our bedroom window, screaming, yelling, laughing and even the littlest ones, crying (I’m guessing…yes, I’m going out on a limb here…from sheer exhaustion), to get the attention of their parents who were talking very loudly in order to be heard over the mega-decibel music being pumped out of the garage, which, by the way (did I mention this?), just so happens to be on the bedroom side of our house.
Sunday is THE day of the week for me: as a pastor, as a father, as a husband, and as a man of God. I seek to keep Saturday night activities to a minimum, especially any late night activities. I hope to be in bed and asleep by no later than 10.00 PM, earlier if I’m able. On a typical Sunday morning, I’m awake at 4 a.m., reading, praying, going over sermon and teaching notes, putting in those final moments before the people of Cornerstone gather to be taught and to worship together.
But if I’m operating on a shortage of sleep, my mental, emotional and definitely physical drain sucks at the spiritual side in complete disproportion. Such was the case yesterday, but God was good and gracious. He supplied the necessary strength to make it through two teaching sessions (Adult Bible Class and Youth Group), along with the worship service. Operating on about four hours of sleep is difficult on a slow day for me; doing so on a Sunday is something I hope not to repeat soon.
So, the “pea soup” fog that is my brain this morning will have to suffice. May it prove to be the day of rest a pastor needs since the Lord’s Day is seldom that for him.
Sorry for what may seem like a complaining spirit. It is not intended to be and may God’s grace overcome that. I am far more thankful that He overcomes our weakness, that He is so much bigger than the sins of others, that His grace and glory are magnified in weak, frail instruments like me. Amen!