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| Illustration by: Salvatore Vuono |
It all started
many years ago. I was a new missionary in Spain. I didn’t speak one word of
Spanish, not one. I couldn’t say
“hello” or make a simple comment. Zip. Nada.
(I learned nada later!)
I’d go to church where not one person besides
missionaries spoke English, sit down with an active baby on my lap, and listen.
The people filed in and smiled at me, and I smiled back. The Spanish pastor got
up and preached. Sometimes, the people would laugh. The pastor was a man who
didn’t use much facial expression or hand movements. He was fairly
monotone—although maybe I only thought so, since I couldn’t understand
anything.
I was having a hard time keeping Baby quiet and keeping
myself awake. Such a “blessing” going to church! I’d go in, understand nothing,
and go home very tired and uninspired. This happened Sunday after Sunday for
about a year.
We were in
language school. (When you start from zero, you have a lot to learn!) Once
in a while, I’d actually understand a word or two the pastor said. (I’m not
exaggerating. I would get one word
here, another there.) Wonderful! I got a “the” and “friend” and tried to build
a whole message on those two words. I still went home Sunday after Sunday, non-blessed.
Two services . . . every Sunday.
I started volunteering for nursery duty. The toddlers taught
me more words than I gleaned from the message. “Food.” “Play.” “No.” Valuable
words.
Back in the
services, something started to happen. I could comprehend a few thoughts
and themes. I didn’t get but half of the words, but I was half understanding
the message—for about thirty minutes. Then, after trying so hard, intensely
watching the pastor’s lips, I was bushed! I slept. Every. Single. Service.
After a half hour, in every service, Missionary Wife was out for the count.
Did I tell you I
hated Sundays?
Somewhere during
that first five-year term, I began understanding up to 90% of the pastor’s words.
It was wonderful! I got something from the messages. The Word—well, what I
understood—ministered to my heart, and I started to like Sundays. What a
relief!
By our second
missionary term we were fluent in Spanish and had a ministry with young
people. By now, we had two little ones to keep quiet in church. Due to an
outside influence, the atmosphere in the church had changed, and I confess I
just wanted to get out of there. Yep, I was too human, too affected by others’
cloudy moods, and too not relying on the Holy Spirit for my joy. So, I hated
Sundays . . . again.
Thankfully, we
were almost ready to start our new church. The building took a lot of
preparation, but we could see the light at the end of the tunnel. We even
started intimate Wednesday prayer meetings in the new, unfinished building.
Those were a blessing. But, I still hated Sundays because of the raincloud and
poisonous feelings toward foreigners—us.
I loved Sundays
again for a while. The new church was growing. It was nice not to have
negativity.
Then, several people began to spar verbally . . . every
service. We decided to have breakfasts at church, thinking that, if their
mouths were busy chewing, it would help the atmosphere. It worked pretty well,
and I started liking Sundays again.
Especially if you
have children, you’ll understand the saying, “By the time you get to
church, you need to be in church.”
Make sure everyone is clean, dressed nicely, in the car on time, with Bibles in
hand. (It’s not only the children who don’t quite make it!) So, the family is out
of sorts, and maybe Missionary Wife, too. If we ever needed sanctification—you
guessed it—it’s on Sundays!
When do you and the kids get sick? Saturday night.
When do you feel the lousiest? Sunday morning.
When would you like to just forget the day and crawl
right back under the covers? Sunday!
I hated Sundays.
I have some
practical advice for those of you who understand the “Sunday problem.” (If
you wake up every Sunday with a smile on your face, a spring in your step,
anticipation in your heart, and your children in matching clothes, these are not for you.) If you understood the rest of this post, even partially, you might find
something useful here:
- Remember why we go
to church—to worship (praise and exalt) God. We don’t go to “get” anything.
We go to lift up Jesus in corporate worship. Even if we can’t understand the
messenger, we can spend our time in church exalting Him in our hearts,
alongside other Christians.
- Remember not to
fixate on people. The Bible tells us to think about: whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things
are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever
things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any
virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things (Philippians 4:8). Instead of letting others affect our
joy, we should think about the Lord Himself. He is true, honest, just, pure,
lovely, of good report, virtuous, and worthy of your praise. It will change
your Sunday!
- Be aware of the enemy.
No one wants you to have a lousy Sunday more than the adversary. Your family
will have more spiritual and physical attacks on the weekend than at any other
time. Finally, my brethren, be strong in
the Lord, and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armour of God, that
ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we wrestle not
against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against
the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high
places (Ephesians 6:10-12) Make sure you have your spiritual armor on.
Spend time in the Word. Spend time with God.
- Decide to have a
positive and Christ-like attitude. By Friday, start praying specifically
for the Sunday service(s). Ask God to anoint the messenger and to work in
hearts. Ask the Lord to do a work in your own heart so that you can have a
joyous countenance. If you have physical issues, ask the Lord to help you with
pain levels and to give you the strength you need for Sunday. (Get enough
sleep. Eat healthy. Exercise.) Ask God for wisdom in dealing with the ladies and
children “sheep” God has given to your flock. Purpose to be an encouragement to
your husband and to everyone else. It will make a difference!
Sunday . . . the
Lord’s Day.
I was glad when they said unto me,
Let us go into the house of the LORD.
(Psalm 122:1)
Love Sundays!
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| Illustration by: mapichai |
