Saturday Night Live

Wanda Hendrickson

READ : John 3:1-4

Dad sat in the corner chair to study his Sunday school lesson. Mom peeled potatoes and set the table for Sunday dinner. Our freshly polished shoes were lined up on the window ledge to dry. The hot water heater was lit for baths and shampoos. Our bed sheets smelled like summer and pj’s had been fluffed by the air, wrinkle free. When we wriggled down into bed, it was all clean; the soil of the week had been washed away. We were ready for Sunday. Our present family doesn’t have these rituals. No one shines shoes or has a designated bath time. The girls’ hair may still be wet in the drive to church.

Saturday night connected us to Sunday, the focus of our week. Mom sang in the choir, and Dad went to some mysterious “upper room” with the elders. The janitor greeted us with a peppermint and we helped him ring the bell fifty-two times at 9:55 a.m. We called everyone by name and prayed for them the same way. Our minister, usually smiley, looked serious, his tone urgent. We didn’t understand it all, but were impressed.

Some things stay the same. We can still get ready for worship in our Saturday evening prayers. We can use our bulletin for a prayer guide, and take the sermon seriously. We can “be still and know that God is here.”


Worshipful God, You who never change, prepare us to come into Your presence. For Jesus’ sake. Amen.