Another Sunday Passed...

As I sit in my office this Sunday evening, I have a mix of feelings. Most of them are good. Peace, gratitude, joy, and humility twinged with regret. Sundays are the most anticipated day of the week for me. I am in love with Sundays. Of course, I know that this probably is not true of all pastors, but for me, there is nothing better than this most sacred day.

Actually, Sunday isn't intrinsically any better than Tuesday. It's simply that Sunday is the day that I get to stand before the people of God and teach them from His Word. On Sunday, I am the prophet of God. I stand where heroes once stood. Men who I desperately want to be like in both life and death. Faithful and true men against whom no one may say anything other than 'blameless'.

I work all week, for weeks in advance even, to teach for 30-40 minutes from the Bible. The words I find there are sweet beyond anything I know in this life. Sweeter than the love of my wife, than the laugh of my son, or the closest friendship. I value these words more than my life. Do not mistake me, I love my wife tremendously. If someone were to attempt to harm her, I would gladly fight for her with all the strength I have availible. Slander her, and you will have all of this 175 pound Alabama man that you can handle. Yet, there is a place in my heart for my Savior that my wife cannot fill, and a passion for His Name that even I do not know the depth of. For this passion is not born of the will of man; it is forged in the heart of God.

This is my task on Sunday. To communicate this wonder that I know in Christ Jesus. To this end I pray and study and hope. And when I stand in the pulpit on Sunday, I worship as I speak the precious truths of God. I tremble at His law, and I exult in His grace. I am too ignorant and my speech is too foolish to ever to justice to any given Scripture. And yet I am compelled to try. I try to paint Christ in splendor with the words given me.

At the end of the day, I am thankful for another chance to pour out my heart to the Church and to God. I have the unflagging hope that God will use those words to change lives. I descend the pulpit knowing that I haven't said enough, that I haven't said it well enough, and that I said some thing I shouldn't and didn't say some things I should. But I cannot deny that God has met me there, in that place and at that time. And even if no one ever moves, I always leave stirred and eager for another chance to stand and speak God's Word if He should be so merciful to give me another Sunday.