Sabbath, we need to talk.
You’re beautiful, holy, and full of veggie meatballs — but also… kind of exhausting.
The “Day of Rest” Marathon
It starts at 9:15 a.m. when I’m already late for Sabbath School and pretending my lesson study happened sometime between Wednesday and “the car ride here.”
By 11:00, I’ve greeted at least 27 people, been hugged by five overenthusiastic greeters, and heard “Happy Sabbath!” so many times I’m considering filing a noise complaint with the deacons.
Then comes divine service — aka the three-hour endurance event disguised as worship. Somewhere between the children’s story and the second special music, I start wondering if this is what heaven will feel like: endless standing, sitting, and announcements about pathfinder car washes.
Lunch = Cardio
Potluck is not for the faint of heart.
The line is 40 people deep, Sister White’s Special K loaf is gone before I get there, and somehow I’m holding a plate that weighs more than a newborn.
After surviving the fellowship hall stampede, I get roped into cleanup, then a “quick” afternoon program, then maybe AY, then an elders’ meeting because apparently, rest involves setting up chairs.
The Great Sunday Reboot
By sunset, I’m spiritually full but physically wrecked.
I love the Sabbath — truly. You’re the best thing that ever happened to my faith life. But if we’re being honest? Sunday feels suspiciously more restful.
I don’t have to dress up, sing three hymns in four-part harmony, or pretend I’m excited about vespers snacks. I just… sit. Maybe nap. Maybe actually rest.
No Hard Feelings
So, Sabbath, please don’t take it personally.
I’ll see you next week — same time, same pew, slightly less energy.
Until then, I’ll be recovering on the day Adventists accidentally made the most restful of all.
Love,
Your Tired but Faithful Follower.
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