It’s Monday, and Sunday is over

The alarm dishovels my sleep and I wake knowing three things: it’s Monday, it’s time to get ready for work and Sunday is over.

Sunday, it’s so easy to be focused on God and His blessings, His magnificent mercy. Sunday, it’s easy to meditate on God’s Holy Word and furl His praises loud. 

But Monday? Monday means our weekend break is over and we return again to the mundane March of work and life. 

Monday means bills come, doctors appointments need to be made, and the faucet is leaking.. again.

Providence in Prayer

Pray. Stressed? Pray. Rejoicing? Pray. Had to ask your child for the thirtieth time to finish getting ready? Pray.

It doesn’t have to come on bended knee or in some ceremony. It can be whispers of, “Lord, I need You” as you restart your computer for the 3rd time. Prayer is simply conversation with God Most High…our Father.

Yes, I do know not everyone was blessed or is blessed to have the kind of Daddy I have. I can talk to Daddy about anything and I do mean anything. There are only two rules for when I talk to Daddy: (1) whatever I say or talk about I must say respectfully & (2) I must be willing to listen not only talk.

Prayer is the same for me. I talk to God about anything and everything. My pain, a sick friend, a lost watch, a family mourning, my want for a queen sized bed, forgiveness of sins or just in thanks. 

But I can’t just talk. I must listen. I must cup the ears of my thoughts to His Holy Scriptures. I must bend my heart to the words from a Godly Pastor. And in listening, I must obey.

I was only 12. Daddy had told me so many times to be careful around the cellar. One hot day, I didn’t listen to that. In pure fiesty stubbornness, I was playing in the cellar until I felt the distinct singe of metal cut through my foot.

I thought it would be fine. Until I could clearly see the peppering of rust on the lid I had embedded into my foot. I would have to tell Daddy.

Lovingly, my Daddy took me to get a tetanus vaccine and have the two inch gash flushed out. But once I got home, I got a whipping.

Mondays (And many other days) need prayers

Daddy didn’t love me any less because of that moment. Quite honestly, it taught me that maybe just maybe Daddy did know best.

God is much the same. Yes, we will rebel and end up peppered in sin. But GOD is faithful to forgive when we repent and come talk to Him. More than my precious Daddy..or your Mom or Aunt or best friend… GOD truly knows best. 

Sunday is over and Monday is upon us. And God is waiting to hear from you, HIS son..HIS daughter. HIS child. 

Advertisements