Sunday drivers are known for creeping down the road, usually on their way to church. Because they so rarely take the car out of the garage, they can be quite annoying to other drivers, especially on two-lane roads.
There are also Sunday Christians, folks who dust off their faith and put on their best faces once a week in church. There, they listen to the sermon in rapt attention, belt out a few soul-stirring hymns and shout “amen” and “hallelujah” when the preacher hits a nerve.
Back at home, they stash away the prayer books and resume everyday life as if they didn’t even believe in God.
This means no daily prayer or Scripture reading, and little compassion when dealing with the beautician, the butcher and the baker. Instead of the Ten Commandments, Sunday Christians bow to maxims like “It’s a dog eat dog world,” “Everyone cheats on their income taxes” and “Do whatever’s necessary to make a buck.”
How many people who say they’re Christians treat their neighbors — and, yes, that includes strangers — with the same respect they crave? How many refrain from the treacherous temptations of gossiping, lying, indulging in extramarital affairs and watching porn on the Internet?
How many claim they believe in prayer, but spend more time scrutinizing their daily horoscope than petitioning God? Or nod vigorously when the preacher mentions the poor, but then walk an extra block to avoid a beggar?
As for me, I admit there are times I need direction in my life, and yak endlessly with friends about which road to take. I often forget to pray about my struggles even though I have a laundry list of other people who need God’s help.
I will splurge on a new dress and shoes without a second thought, but then sit pondering about whether I can afford to send money to overseas missions.
And sometimes I put more faith in medical breakthroughs than in the Lord. This is not to say the two are mutually exclusive, but at times, I’ve been so happy to be in expert medical hands that I’ve forgotten about the bigger hands that carry everyone, including doctors.
It can be dangerous to feel smug and self-righteous simply because we’re in the pews on Sunday. It’s tempting to think we’ve received our gold stars, and therefore no matter what shenanigans we get into during the week, we’re good to go.
A quick reality check reveals that churchgoers sometimes make headlines for committing egregious criminal actions. Reporters often interview well-meaning relatives and friends who praise the perpetrator because he never missed a Sunday service.
Christianity isn’t a suit of clothes we don once a week — it’s a lifelong, everyday commitment and a hard struggle. I’d hate to arrive at the Pearly Gates to find St. Peter looking at me quizzically and asking, “Who are you?”
And then when I tell him, I’d hate to see him do a double take and say, “Oh, no wonder I didn’t recognize you — you’re not wearing your Sunday best.”
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