We see you. Every Sabbath. You think you’re being subtle, but no. Your eyes flick up to the wall clock like it owes you tithe. Then back to the preacher. Then to the clock again. Then the preacher. Clock. Preacher. Clock. Preacher. It’s like watching Wimbledon, only with more guilt.

Here’s the thing: we all know what you’re doing. You’re silently willing the sermon to end, and you’re trying to make it happen with sheer Adventist passive-aggression. Spoiler: it doesn’t work. If anything, your laser-beam glares at the clock just give the preacher supernatural endurance. Suddenly, that “last point” blossoms into three sub-points, an Ellen White quote, and a special music encore.

Let’s be real. We’re Adventists. We’re conditioned to believe that Jesus is coming “soon,” but apparently not soon enough to end this sermon. So we cope. Some doodle in their bulletins. Some flip through their Bible apps and pretend they’re following along (we see you checking Instagram). But you, dear Clockwatcher, have chosen to bear the burden of time itself for the rest of us.


And while we appreciate your noble service, may we humbly suggest: stop. Because here’s the dirty little secret—every time you check the clock, 15 more minutes are mysteriously added to the sermon. It’s Adventist physics.


So next Sabbath, resist the temptation. Don’t look. Don’t give the clock that power. Maybe—just maybe—the sermon will end before your potluck casserole congeals into a solid block of sanctified despair.

Until then, keep your eyes on Jesus, not the second hand.

Sincerely,
Everyone Else in the Pew
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