I struggle with Monday morning faith. It seems like the best weekends and the best attitudes get knocked down, first thing Monday morning, and you’re left asking why. Or, maybe if you’re me, whining in your head “WHY!?” to God.
Yesterday was one of those mornings for me. I had a perfect weekend, walked into work at 7:30 on Monday morning with a good attitude, ready to take on the week. My good attitude was gone by 7:34 when my e-mail loaded. A client had sent me a two page scathing e-mail in bright blue text, just tearing my writing for her to shreds.
By later in the day, I could distance myself enough to see what the real problems were, few of them having anything to do with me. But in that moment, as I sat at my desk, ready to cry, I just stopped and prayed “Why? Why would you do this right now?”
Really big things, the bad things that scar your life, those don’t drive me from the Lord. Nope, those push me to him. I found a personal relationship with Christ during the worst lose of my life so far, and when anything comes close to that, it’s instinct, I hit my knees.
But Monday morning road bumps? Those drive a wedge between us. It’s the daily stressors in life that make me want to scream “ARE YOU EVEN THERE?! ARE YOU NAPPING? DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!”
I’ve had a lot of those moments this year. As a whole, 2012 was easily the hardest year I have ever experienced. It wasn’t the big things, it was the relentless pounding by the smaller ones. The prayers that felt unanswered. The hopes that got smashed. The bad news, after bad news, after bad news, only to be followed by a glimmer of good news – Oops! Just kidding!.
Every time, the question in my head and my heart is the same. “Why?”
My type A personality doesn’t like not being able to answer that question. For big things, I somehow trust that my Father can use them for good. For little things, I just don’t understand. In my head somewhere, I know that doesn’t make any sense. God can use little things. And if a knock out punch I didn’t see coming takes me down, He can pick me back up. He might even have a better plan for me then the one that fell apart. Right now, I can make that argument. But in the moment, my heart gets in the way.
I think I’m most grateful for Monday morning grace. When I need big screw-up grace, I’m normally right there asking for it. But Monday morning grace, the kind where He lets me stew at my desk, giving him a petulant “I’m not talking to you right now!” until I come around, that is the grace that I need the most. The stuff I don’t ask for. The grace that meets me where I’m at, even when pretend that I don’t need it.
Praying Tuesday is just a little easier…