But what if we start our stewardship tenures too drained to be diligent; too exhausted to be creative? What if the church is the cause of that fatigue; in other words...

      What if we're burned out before Monday?

      Don't get me wrong: There are few writers more aggressively supportive of local churches and pastors than me, so I'm not pointing fingers only at them. In fact, the greater fault lies with each of us who fail to see that serving God well often means not serving on Sunday.

     On another day we'll talk about our (many) obligations to the local church***. For now, though, let's examine the church's obligations to us as we prepare for our work-week roles as stewards, consumers and evangelists, using terms familiar to all of us: Rest, Food and Fishing.

      Rest. Until the middle of the past century, American Christians, aided by local churches, managed to negotiate an opportunity to slow down by prohibiting (most) work on Sundays. In this largely bygone era, Sundays were frequently given over to long preaching services, and lots of naps and chats. Depending on your age and energy, those days were boring or refreshing, eagerly enjoyed or barely endured. Still, the body rested and our souls were tended.

     Food on these old Sabbaths was well-planned and fully-satisfying, spiritually and physically. Pastors spent long hours planning (and sometimes even longer hours) preaching messages carefully considered. Older Christians taught catechisms, training unions, Sunday schools and adult Bible studies, usually with the objective of making sure each person had a chance to understand the systems of faith. (Why we believed what we believed, and how beliefs fit together.) Equally delightful were the occasional church potlucks or the more common and luxurious Sunday meals at Grandma's or at the house where the most extended family members could join in, stuffing us with fried chicken, mashed potatoes and the kind of love only quantity time communicates.

      In those days we were also taught to fish, and that meant fishing for souls as much as it meant fishing on the creek or river banks. We were taught to read (and often memorize sections of) the Bible ourselves; that God wanted us to know it as well as the pastor did, because He expected us to live it out in our homes and businesses and because He expected us to tell everyone we met everything we were learning about Him. So Sundays of old were about getting back to this: Christians are to spend the greater part of their waking hours in places other than churches, and they're to see themselves as stewards (tending the workplace, community and home) and evangelists (tending the souls of everyone outside the church walls.)

      Were?...those days?...old days? Does that mean we're not doing it anymore?

      Suddenly it's Sunday night and Christians all over the country are dreading Monday morning, burned out before they start, with no idea how to tend Creation and no patience with their coworkers who are equally tired and ready to fuss. Maybe a quiet time will help, we think...but it's a nap and not a Rest.