It's Sunday. What does that mean to you? Another day to sleep in and relax before the next work week begins? A day to get up and put on the mask of the "good girl/boy" and go to church to fulfill your weekly duty? The busiest day of the week with family and church obligations out the wazoo? A blessed day of rest and reflection on the God who created the universe in 6 days?
For the last several weeks, Sunday has become (at least temporarily) for me, a day to cry. To weep. To sometimes sob. I didn't choose for that to be the case. I do not wake up each Sunday morning and say to myself, "Well, get ready for a good cry. Today's the day!" In fact, most Sunday mornings I wake up refreshed and excited about spending the day at church and with my family. Nevertheless, I have found myself in tears each Sunday for the past 5 weeks or so. Part of it is the weekly reminder, as we step into the church we are attending, that things are not as we planned them to be. Each time I enter, as I sit in the pew, as I listen to the orchestra and the choir, as I hear the announcements and reflect on the message from the Pastor, I am faced with the reality that it was never in my plan to sit in that congregation as anything other than the Associate Pastor's wife, but that didn't happen. I haven't quite figured out how to sit there without that memory invading yet. Another layer of my tears has come from the keen awareness in that environment of the goodness of my God. Yes, there is pain reflecting on how things were "supposed to be," but there is also tremendous peace and joy coming from the God who has revealed Himself to me during this season in ways so tender and precious and awe-inspiring that I can't help but cry each week as I sing about His goodness and acknowledge His perfection.
As I have processed my unexpected and yet consistent Sunday tears, I can't help but think that it is all okay. That I am not pathetic, rather I am broken and blessed. That, in reality, this is how it should be. Each and every week, we should all have moments to be reminded that "This is not how it should be." This world is not our home. We are strangers and aliens in this place. Yet, we should also have moments of pure awe at the goodness and GREATNESS of our God. It is these moments that keep us grounded in the spiritual reality in which we live. It is these moments from which worship arises. It is these moments wherein we declare our dependence on God and the insufficiency in ourselves.
I'm so glad it's Sunday.
Carla Ritz. Proof positive that God uses cracked pots!