Sunday Mornings

I hate mornings.

Most Sundays start around 6:45 for me. I don't think it should be legal for anyone to wake up before 9 a.m. But I have a church service at 8:45, so that's not an option. Also having a son who thinks mornings are great. Not what I was most looking forward to about being a dad.

But I get up. I shower and get dressed. I make my morning smoothie--today is was frozen mixed berries, a banana, Greek yogurt, and 3 oz of orange juice. I drink said smoothie while reading a book that has nothing to do with theology or the church--at least not directly.

I am up at church unlocking doors, turning on heaters or A/C's, turning on lights, etc... by 7:45. Then begins the half-hour-long frantic run around to take care of everything that I can never remember to do during the week.

Is there a call to worship? Did I triple-check the bulletin for mistakes that I made? Did I bring a tie?

Then I get to greet people as they come in and run around helping everyone else get a handle on their morning. It can be stressful, but I love to help people, so it's worth it.

Service starts at 8:45. Usually at about 8:43 1/2, I go into my office to change from suit jacket into tie and robe. Then I run into the sanctuary (hopefully) right before my liturgist starts the welcome and announcements. After a morning that always seems a little more stressful than it needs to be, it's finally time for worship.

And that's when everything is right in the world.

I don't care if I have twenty people or a hundred people in worship. I don't care if the choir has prepared an anthem or if Danton is just going to play something instrumental on the piano. It doesn't matter who my liturgist is or what songs we sing. Everything that has been swimming around in my head disappears. My to-do list vanishes. My worries and cares take a back seat. I don't even think about my sermon or Scripture telling at that point. It's all in the background. It all fades away.

Because it's time for worship.