SATURDAY MORNING
There are other things I'd rather be doing on a Saturday morning, but duty calls ...
The kitchen is threatening to produce a new life form unless I get a week's worth of dishes done and the chili disaster in the microwave cleaned up. The cat boxes are going to be declared a bio-hazard if I don't do something, NOW, and my parsonage office has been creeping out into the rest of the house.
Its been a challenging week, and let's face it, God did not create me to be a domestic goddess. God, bless them -- my mother was and my sisters are, but not me. I admit I have someone come in and do light housekeeping twice a month because the clutter is hard enough to keep ahead of. Clutter becomes a time management issue, but it's a double challenge for someone like me who scores off the charts as a visual processer. People like me need to see their stuff. We make piles, have bins and wire baskets, and open shelving storage. The problem is that sometimes there is so much stuff out, that I can't find the stuff that I need.
So, this morning, I ponder on the mess and the idea that all work, including the housework I find no joy in doing, is sacred work. All work is sacred when done to the glory of God, even if the work is not so glorious. But I'm thinking scrubbing out baked-on chili from the inside of the microwave and cleaning up the remains of the pyrex measuring cup that exploded in there brings new meaning to suffering for Christ.
But tomorrow is Sunday, and tomorrow, some of this will make more sense than it does on this morning when that second cup of coffee just isn't doing anything for me.
That's what worship is for. Worship isn't about us and what we do. If we approach worship as some sort of religious entertainment, we're missing out. We're missing out on God.
Worship is about what God is doing -- transforming us, shaping us and building unity in the community of faith. If I go into worship with a sense of expectancy, I will find something in the words of the hymns and the liturgy, in the choir anthem, or even in the very words I, myself, prepared for that morning, that will be an epiphany, that will put everything into perspective.
Worship gives us the images, language and framework for interpreting life and the world around us through the eyes of faith. It gives us something we can use to get through the dirty dishes and litter boxes of everyday living.
I remember an episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond." Raymond's mother and wife were trying to convince him that he should go to church with the rest of the family. Raymond asked Deborah, his wife, why she goes.
"Because it makes me feel better," she replied (to the best of my recollection), "I get something out of it, and It gets me through the week, and I'm a better person and a better mother because of it."
So, today is dirty dishes, scooping out cat boxes and clutter clean-up.
And tomorrow is Sunday. Tomorrow is worship.
The kitchen is threatening to produce a new life form unless I get a week's worth of dishes done and the chili disaster in the microwave cleaned up. The cat boxes are going to be declared a bio-hazard if I don't do something, NOW, and my parsonage office has been creeping out into the rest of the house.
Its been a challenging week, and let's face it, God did not create me to be a domestic goddess. God, bless them -- my mother was and my sisters are, but not me. I admit I have someone come in and do light housekeeping twice a month because the clutter is hard enough to keep ahead of. Clutter becomes a time management issue, but it's a double challenge for someone like me who scores off the charts as a visual processer. People like me need to see their stuff. We make piles, have bins and wire baskets, and open shelving storage. The problem is that sometimes there is so much stuff out, that I can't find the stuff that I need.
So, this morning, I ponder on the mess and the idea that all work, including the housework I find no joy in doing, is sacred work. All work is sacred when done to the glory of God, even if the work is not so glorious. But I'm thinking scrubbing out baked-on chili from the inside of the microwave and cleaning up the remains of the pyrex measuring cup that exploded in there brings new meaning to suffering for Christ.
But tomorrow is Sunday, and tomorrow, some of this will make more sense than it does on this morning when that second cup of coffee just isn't doing anything for me.
That's what worship is for. Worship isn't about us and what we do. If we approach worship as some sort of religious entertainment, we're missing out. We're missing out on God.
Worship is about what God is doing -- transforming us, shaping us and building unity in the community of faith. If I go into worship with a sense of expectancy, I will find something in the words of the hymns and the liturgy, in the choir anthem, or even in the very words I, myself, prepared for that morning, that will be an epiphany, that will put everything into perspective.
Worship gives us the images, language and framework for interpreting life and the world around us through the eyes of faith. It gives us something we can use to get through the dirty dishes and litter boxes of everyday living.
I remember an episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond." Raymond's mother and wife were trying to convince him that he should go to church with the rest of the family. Raymond asked Deborah, his wife, why she goes.
"Because it makes me feel better," she replied (to the best of my recollection), "I get something out of it, and It gets me through the week, and I'm a better person and a better mother because of it."
So, today is dirty dishes, scooping out cat boxes and clutter clean-up.
And tomorrow is Sunday. Tomorrow is worship.
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