Sunday mornings are a rediscovered blessing to me.
I spent a fair few years trudging my own path, living any old way, and not caring about the consequences.
Mind you, I am much too boring for that to have born any interesting consequences other than emotional scars and finances that would make a street corner panhandler thankful for all of his hard-earned pennies, but consequences are consequences, right?
One Sunday morning, I just knew. I knew it was time to get up, get dressed, and take my backslidden tail to church. My pillow was crooked, the mattress felt lumpy, and my feet were hot, probably from the flames of Hell licking at the soles of my oft-swollen gams.
I had to get up.
We’ve missed a few services, here and there, but there’s something about the hustle of trying to get ready on a typically sleepy, cozy day that feels right. Sitting in my car rolling my eyes as my husband struggles to find his glasses every single Sunday feels like a routine of which I should be a part.
I go to the same church I’ve known my entire life. I see many of the same faces I saw as a small child in those same pews. It feels very much like home.
I do miss Brother Darrell’s podium slaps and that amazing uppercut to Jesus he used to do when he’d get excited, but I have grown to love the messages delivered by the new guy. He always strikes right to the core of whatever nonsense is floating about my head or whatever new struggle we’re experiencing in our quiet household.
There’s always this one issue that I can’t let go of. The depth of hatefulness, greed, and pettiness I’ve witnessed within my own bloodline has crawled in my craw and built a fancy little house there. It was a thing that I could not get over.
Even on the best days, it’s lingering in the back of my mind sucking the light from any really good thing that might pass its way but Brother Bryan managed, in a red-faced Jesus fervor, to blast that issue to bits. One sentence and it was gone...and it’s a thing we’ve all heard a million times.
“Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.”
You reap what you sow.
The chord that verse struck reverberated through me with such a fury that my hurt feelings and smoldering anger vanished.
I no longer ache for the thing that caused the anger in the first place, and I hold no resentment for the fact that I wasn’t able to get what I wanted so badly, and it’s all because I know you reap what you sow.
I feel vindicated at the notion.
Sow honesty, guys. Sow caring and compassion. Sow what is right because you will reap that, again and again and again.
Go ahead and throw out another handful of hateful lies and black-hearted greed and let’s watch the buildings fall down around you as you reap your harvest.
Amber Lollar is the senior reporter for The Henderson News. Her e-mail address is <email@example.com>. © 2021, Henderson Newspapers Inc.