Someone recently asked me if I hate Tuesdays. I answered, “Yes.” Doug died on a Tuesday and they will be hard for me for the foreseeable future. As I thought more about that conversation I came to realize that Sundays are even harder. I would like to go to bed on Saturday and not wake up until Monday. I would like to skip Sunday.
We were together on Sundays more often than any other day of the week and when we returned to the US it was difficult for me to go and sit in a church service and not participate in some way. However, my ministry role had transitioned from that of pastor’s wife to full-time caregiver and I could not slack. I had to be content with sitting in a service when I could and allow others to minister.
Since Doug’s Home going, Sundays have become even more difficult. Songs of worship often bring on tears; especially the ones that address the resurrection. When someone prays, I find myself reaching for Doug’s hand. When the pastor makes an interesting point, I want to lean over and make a comment. I realize I’m sitting by myself and it’s not because my husband is preaching.
I’ll be honest, there are many Sunday mornings I don’t want to get up for church. But, I do because I need to. I go to church because it’s the right thing to do. I should be with fellow believers in Christ. I should sing through the tears. I should open my heart to the preaching of the Word. I should be there because it’s a haven. So, I go. I drag myself out of bed, get myself ready and I go.
Pastor has been preaching through the book of Revelation recently and, even though it mostly addresses the end times, I find one recurring theme; the result of great tribulation is great worship. I’ve seen it over and over throughout the few chapters he’s preached so far. It was captivating to picture the tribulation saints that were under the altar in chapter 6 suffering great torment clothed in white robes and singing praises to God in chapter 7. And, there are other records. Noah built an altar to the Lord after the flood. Joshua built an altar of remembrance when the Israelites crossed the Jordan. Job fell on his face and worshipped when he lost everything.
This constant reminder is bringing me around to where I should be. I lost my husband, but I can worship God. I’m not sure where the Lord is taking me in ministry, but I can worship God. Sundays will continue to be difficult, but I can worship God. So, more and more often I find myself doing just that. It helps me through the sadness, pain and uncertainty because I focus on Him and not myself. I think in time I may be ok with Sundays again and even look forward to them.