(First posted March 21, 2011)

“Oh God.”

That will be our prayer, God, many of us as we look at the clock for the first time on Monday morning, as we roll over and slap the alarm, as we feel the crush of realizing we have no idea where we left off in whatever projects are facing us.

Hear our prayer O Lord.

We spent Sunday in church / not in church / with people we love / with people we hate / alone / working / laughing / crying / wondering / wandering / lost.  We don’t have to tell you that, of course, but there is something about telling you about our weekend as we remember it with delight / regret / confusion that helps us find it.

Hear our prayer O Lord.

We start the new week, weak. We worship coffee this morning, some of us, with the same reverence and greater craving than we shared a cup of wine or juice yesterday. We mean you no disreverence in this, Lord Jesus.

You yourself knew first days of the workweek. You yourself had to wake up and face John’s bad breath and Peter’s bad temper and Judas’ cheapness when it came to the disciple’s coffee fund. And though you had already created the coffee plant long before, no one had yet discovered how to roast it when you got up and went off to spend the early morning in conversation with your Father.

Were those conversations with him more real for you than our conversations with you are real for us?

Would you be willing, perhaps, today, to let it feel not so much like Monday? To help us more quickly remember where we are and why? To hear “Oh God” as less oath and more affirmation? To know that it’s to you alone we can hope to turn?

Here.

Our prayer:

“O Lord.”