I’ve always had a fondness for a summer Sunday, especially before two-a-days. Things already have a way of slowing down during the dog days of summer—especially down South, where the heat settles in thick as soup—but a summer Sunday? Well, that operates in a whole different gear.
Looking back, those days tasted like cold watermelon and fresh-churned peach ice cream, washed down with about as much sweet tea as I could hold. The afternoon’s agenda was simple: string up the hammock, pick a few wild flowers for Grandmother Erwin, and practice the fine art of doing absolutely nothing. Sure, church was still on the schedule, but nobody was keeping attendance. Even the preacher knew better than to string his sermon out or throw around too much fire and brimstone. It was just too plain hot.
But you look around today, and for a lot of folks, a summer Sunday is just another square on the calendar. The current generation seems to have lost the knack for sitting still; it goes against their wiring. They spend the Lord’s day getting a jump on Monday—ordering groceries on their phones, scheduling meetings, and fretting over the week ahead. They look at me like I’m a relic because my grandest ambition for the day is a cup of coffee and the Sunday paper. Maybe a nap will follow.
It makes you think. The Bible says that after a hard week of framing the universe, God Almighty took a load off on the seventh day. If the Creator of heaven and earth figured the world could run itself for a twenty-four-hour stretch, I reckon the corporate ladder can survive without us for one afternoon.
So do yourself a favor: let the emails wait, leave the chores for tomorrow, and go find yourself a spot of shade. The world’s going to keep on spinning, but you might as well enjoy the breeze while it does.
Leave a Reply +