A Tale of Two Mornings
As the fog of sleep slowly recedes, I roll over, snuggle into the blankets and let out a contented sigh.
Saturday morning.
There’s something about those words that sends a little shiver of pleasure down my spine. A lazy morning in my jammies, pancakes on the griddle, soccer in the sun, children laughing in the yard.
I know the reality is often quite different: Saturdays filled with grumpy chores, rainy soccer and burned pancakes.
But that doesn’t stop the warm glow slowly spreading from my ears to my toes as I think those precious words: Saturday morning.
Then the fog clears a bit more and I remember: That was yesterday.
My eyes snap open.
Sunday morning.
I’d love to tell you those words send a similar shiver of pleasure down my spine.
But I’d be lying.
If I do get a shiver, it’s more like the feeling you get when you suddenly remember your in-laws are coming over for dinner. Not quite terror, but certainly not joy. More like resignation.
It’s amazing how quickly a state of relaxation can disappear.
Still in bed, though not as snuggly as before, I begin thinking about what will happen once we get to church: songs I’ve sung before and sermons I’ve heard before, small talk I won’t enjoy with people I don’t really know, ministry responsibilities that sometimes feel more like obligations and, worst of all, bad coffee.
When I thought it was Saturday, I couldn’t wait for the morning to begin. Now I’m trying to ignore the thought slowly inching its way into my consciousness: Maybe we should just skip.
Two mornings, two very different responses. And, for a long time, that is precisely how I felt, unable to look forward to Sunday morning with the same eager anticipation I did Saturday morning.
If we were talking about just one, isolated incident, I wouldn’t have worried so much. We all have tough mornings, and sometimes they come at the end of rough weeks.
But that wasn’t the case. I felt this way far too often.
Something was wrong.
The Slow Drift Toward Burnout
I hadn’t always felt this way.
In the past, going to church was one of the highlights of my week. Meaningful relationships, great music and powerful preaching, those kept me coming week after week.
Eventually, though, each began to lose their pull.
