Sundays and Jesus, Rev 1
Sundays always disappear too quickly. You sleep in, maybe just a half hour, take your time getting dressed and head out- with or without the dogs. Sunday mornings involved lattes and muffin crumbs in the car, a bit of grocery shopping and maybe breakfast. When I was younger I went to church on Sundays, or rather passed through Sunday school on the way to Winchell’s Donuts with the boys, leaving an empty classroom for Jesus to stretch out in. We’d buy a grape juice and pretend it was wine, a faux communion. I was grounded from the youth group because I always took off. I wasn’t doing anything daring at all. I was just bored. In those days they tried to pretend we were in a coffee house instead of a church, the days before self realization. Some of our leaders tried out things on us, that I think they read about in a book. Unqualified but confident they were doing the Lord’s work. Guitars- acoustic of course- were always present. Walls painted black, with the Bible stuf