Friday morning

Father God,

It’s the end of the week. But I haven’t gotten everything done that I would have liked to get done. I have gotten done things that I probably shouldn’t have.

I think that Jesus never felt like this on Friday.

I think that when he got to the end of a week, as he prepared for the Sabbath to start, he thought “I did what I needed to do.”

Why could he think that and I don’t?

I mean, there were people who weren’t healed. In fact, the number of people that he healed on the sabbath suggests that there were people on Friday that were still sick. And there were disciples who were still confused. And there were people who wanted to see him, people who wanted to hear stories, people who were wanting miracles.

And Jesus still was fine with that.

I know that he talked to you all the time. I know that he talked about doing your will, about doing your work.

I’m guessing that’s what I’m supposed to do, too. I’m guessing that if, instead of asking you to help me, I asked to help you, I might look at things differently.

And I try. You know I try. But there are entire hours that I don’t think about you.

So what if this morning I ask you to help me help you? What if I decide that today, whatever I get done, will be fine? And what if I decide not to worry every moment that I might make you mad but remember that Jesus wasn’t always afraid of making you mad. And what if I thank you for what I have, the opportunities I have.

And what if I am grateful for the weekend rather than dreading what’s not done.

Okay?

3 thoughts on “Friday morning

  1. Pingback: pages, dogs, sabbath and slack. | 300 words a day

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