When the radio went off this morning at its usual rude hour, I felt like weeping. I sat still and waited for it to recognize the extreme unfairness of its reckless disrupting of my slumber. Is there no kindness in this world for a 87 year old man such as myself? Do the elderly and infirm not need greater rest than what I had been granted through the night – how dare that clock meddle in my affairs! What about my arthritis? What about my troubled back and achy shoulder? I wanted to grab my spectacles and wrap myself in the robe that I bought in 1951 after graduating college and shuffle down the hall in my orthopedic slippers to the guest bedroom where there is no window for sunlight nor is there an alarm clock to pester me. What’s an old man to do?
It was then that it occurred to me that I’m not 87. I’m 41…and it’s Monday morning…Monday morning…Monday morning. That explains everything.
I’ve only met one person in my lifetime that had the audacity to share with me how much he loved Mondays. They still haven’t found where this fellow is buried. Mondays are not to be coddled and cooed and stroked and embraced. Mondays are meant to be resented and spited and hated and loathed. Mondays are to preachers what Oreos and Butterfingers are to dental hygienists. If you don’t believe what I say today, won’t you recall the enlightened words of that traveling band of theologians from yesteryear, The Mamas & The Papas who sang, “Monday, Monday…can’t trust that day…” See, I’m not alone! Now Sundays, there’s a great day of the week. It’s almost like Monday shows up just to make sure you don’t think for a second that the blessings of Sunday are to go any further. Monday is a taunting, nagging perpetually dateless old maid who is herself miserable and wants to infect the rest of the weekdays with her slimy sliminess. Mondays should be banned and a new day erected to take her dingy little spot on the calendar. I recommend that we call this new day Notmonday and throw a little fiesta to kick it off.
OK, I know I’m sounding more like a 3 year old than and 87 year old but I just didn’t have anything in the thought-tank today yet really wanted to post something in the blog. My motto is, “When you don’t have anything good to say, speak up anyway and post it in a blog so that many will become convinced of your overt lack of spiritual depth.” Now that I’ve vented out my bitterness I’m going to have to get down to the business at hand. It all begins with crawling back into bed with plugs in my ears and one of those light-blocking masks from Brookstone over my eyes. Then I’m going to dream deeply of the life that I had yesterday when I was 41 years old and blessed with an peerless wife and perfect kids, robustly enjoying the Kingdom work entrusted to me, full of excitement and anticipation about the people I get to serve and grateful for everything from the green grass to the mug of coffee in my hand. When I awake, this 87 year old man will down a glassful of his Ovaltine, put on a fresh pair of Depends and start mastering his mind to remember just how incredibly good his God has been to him. ‘Nuff said.
Hope you have a great Notmonday, folks!
I seem to remember something that someone said about string holds….. Wait.it will come t
o me…
I am The Lords Special Ops Drill Sargent for
Mondays..
So Getup,rise and shine.
His strength is made perfect in our weakness..
His grace is sufficent for you this day called Monday.
this is the day the Lord has made
rejoice,get up and be glad in it….
weather your 4,14, 41 or 87 says the Lord.
Take up your cross and follow me.
Just now, reading your blog. We both were glad and appreciated your sermons. As always they gave us things to think about and to correct in our lives. I know Sunday is such a busy
day and a very long day for you….no wonder you don’t care much for Monday. Maybe its because we are older we are happy to awake every morning feeling ready for the new day, that
God has allowed. We are really looking to the date He calls us home as then we will truly rejoice every day with Him..
Poor Pastor Jeff, you are admitting to having the same feelings that we all have on Monday mornings. That is why many of us at Meadow make it a daily habit to read your blogs, it is like getting refreshment on the days that we really need it. We appreciate a pastor who is open and honest, not holier than thou, like most of the pastors I have had in the past. By the way, you must be really exhausted, because there were several typos in your blog, which is very unlike you.
Get some needed rest!!!
Beth
soreey ’bout thEM Typoze, beth. dat bOoK larnin’ stuff weren’t my fayvrit stuF win I wuz yUNGer. i thInk I fikst dem awL now. – jEFf
I liked the brownie temptation story better… hee hee 🙂
I had a opportunity to Love Monday’s on my last Job.
I had to do rotating shifts and days off.
I would have different days of the week off too every week it would change.
When I had Sunday’s and Monday’s as my days off..I Loved it.
I could actually sleep on Monday’s and Love it.
But that is the only time Monday’s are good.
But I agree with the rest of your take on Monday’s.
My heart is filled with thankfulness
To Him who reigns above
Whose wisdom is my perfect peace
Whose every thought is love
For every day I have on earth
Is given by the King
So I will give my life my all
To love and follow Him
Keith Getty & Stuart Townend
I believe “EVERY day” means just that, brother!
“I have heard many such things: miserable comforters are {you}.” – Job 16:2
David, how dare you confront my bad attitude with good theology!
I take exception to your depiction of us older types. Most of us can handle not just 1 glass of Ovaltine but 2 or even three! However, I do admit to being forgetful regarding those Depends things….now, where did I put that package?
I chose the age of 87 because I didn’t think anyone at that age would read my blog. You are a sprite 66 so consider yourself relegated to the category of “mature adult”. By the way, those Depends you are looking for are on aisle #8 of your local Rite-Aid.