Sundays are a day I always look forward to, whether it's during the half of the year I teach the third graders, or the half of the year I'm a student in an adult class.
Fellowship with my brothers and sisters in Christ, spending time really focusing on God and the sacrifice that Jesus made for me, learning from His word, praying and praising our God with our hearts and lips - what could be better?
But I think it's safe to say for teachers, not to mention, the preachers and worship leaders, Sundays are not a day of rest; they are a day of work. Fulfilling, uplifting, wonderful work, but work nonetheless.
I am my own worst enemy: I fill my Sunday afternoons with frenetic multitasking. I throw in a load of clothes to start and then review the morning's lesson and make tweaks and notes to myself for next year; I work on the upcoming issue of a newsletter or two (or three--I seem to have volunteered myself into writing/editing three newsletters for our congregation.) Then there's just enough time to strip beds, run the vacuum, tidy the bathrooms, jot down a menu and hit the grocery store - anything to get a head start on the coming workweek. Or I throw on my shorts and head to the YMCA to squeeze in a run, leaving just enough time to shower and change before evening services. Occasionally, the couch pulls me like the moon pulls the ocean, and I succumb to a nap....ahhh. But most Sundays, my "Martha" persona is busy bringing her A-game to get things done.
Psalm 46:10 is not a polite request, it is command. It has two parts that work together: Be still. And know that I am God. Only when I am still can I give Him my undivided attention and let Him speak to me, shape my thoughts, and give me the peace and wisdom I fervently pray for as I'm rushing around.
Today my thoughts are with the Gilmore family. Sister Gilmore was a wise, wonderful, mature Christian role model and confidante to so many women. Her calm and sweet demeanor, her unassuming way of helping others spoke volumes of her close walk with God. I rejoice that she made it home and I pray I will see her again someday. At the same time, my heart sorrows for her family as they deal with the void in their lives. Maybe today I'll take a cue from this dear sister, and just be still.
