Sunday

It's like climbing a mountain all week. Hard work, exhausting, but rewarding to see God come through each step of the way. By Sabbath I get to an overlook where I see everything He has done for me. I am overwhelmed by His faithfulness, week after week, helping me give when I didn't think I had anything to give. Lifting my burdens, giving me peace. 

And then there's Sunday. Or even Sabbath afternoon sometimes. I don't want to look, but I feel the weight of knowing that the next mountain is ahead, and I feel so weak and undone. I just want to stay here or go back down this mountain. I don't feel like taking on another one. But I know that's where Jesus is. And I want to be with Him, so I will go.

But sometimes, for just a Sunday, I have to catch my breath. I have to be still for a little while. Silent. Let the soul storms gently come and go and listen for that quiet voice reassuring me that He is going to see me through...again. It's a time of unhindered honesty before my Father, opening my heart to Him and letting the weariness out and His love and strength in.

And when that happens, all said and done, I call it a productive Sunday.