Sunday’s Shroud

Sunday is Resurrection day.

It is a day of life.

It is a day of redemption.

It is a day of celebration.

Why, then, are my Sundays so often shrouded in inadequacy, insecurity, and insignificance?

Did what I just do matter?

The preparation, the planning, the praying, the proclaiming–did any of it make any difference whatsoever?

Would people’s lives seem to be as unaffected had I merely read a few quotes, told a nice story, and added a loosely connected verse from the Bible along the way?

This is Sunday. The Lord’s day.

In fact, the only way I know to carry on as a pastor is to remember that it is the Lord’s day, not my day. It is not my time to shine. What I do is not for me. It is for God’s people by His power.

This is no cry for adulation, nor a self-consumed attempt at self-pity.

This is, rather, the unbroken cry that God is active. He may not appear in the rushing wind, or the rupturing earthquake, or the raging fire. Most often in pastoral ministry, God invades that thin silence known to Elijah and other prophets.

This is dedicated to those who press on in the invisible work of pastoral ministry. Your labor, dear friend, is not in vain.

 

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