The quietest part of my week is Saturday night. I spend most of it alone in a large empty sanctuary. I talk to myself… doing final edits and revisions to tomorrow’s sermon, thinking through announcements, prayer request and technological hurtles. I’ll give it all a final run-through.
I talk to God – praying that He blesses the people that will sit in each pew in the morning. That He’d nudge folks who are indecisive about attending. – Praying for people who have so many needs – spoken and obvious, unspoken – and hidden. People who need the Lord to bless them in some way. People whose lives need to be changed by the hope and love that God offers.
And I’m really convinced that it matters – that a morning as standard and regular as a Sunday spent in worship can make a difference in the lives of people – whatever they’re going through, in a way where people are more grateful for Christ and more loving to their neighbors. And each Saturday night, I ask God in faith that He make the next morning a powerful one. (And He often does just that and more)