Faith: Thankful for the gift of Mondays

Well, here we are again. Monday morning. At least, in my corner of the universe. I mean, of course, as I’m writing this. I don’t know when you’re reading it. Whenever it is, I do very much appreciate your discerning and impeccable literary tastes. (And, I beg you, please give me at least one more chance after you read this particular column. I’m thinking it will be a little thin.) But onward ...

This is probably not news to you, upon reflection, but most barbers and a good many pastors share a “general population” minority view of Mondays; we are very fond of them.

Please understand, I genuinely love what happens in my life on Sundays. At least, I love it once I’ve pried myself out of bed, and caffeine and hot running water have done their vital work.

And, may I say, since COVID-19 shut down so many of our churches for real, in-life, in-person, flesh-and-blood worship times, I value Sundays now more than ever. I admit that I didn’t mind sleeping in for a Sunday or a few. That whole experience has been exhausting and involved harder work than ever, but having done Sunday’s video early, I did find a few positives in the general mess. And less than ever am I tempted to count myself as some other species who cannot imagine sleeping in on Sundays. On balance, it’s a sad and hurtful choice, I think, but I quickly admit it: I understand those whose church attendance good intentions are derailed by every “gnat’s eyelash and mosquito’s wing that falls on the rails” and who come faithfully—whenever the barometric pressure in Bolivia is conducive to church attendance. Hey, I’m human, too. (And some of you, for very good reasons, really should not come right now. But let’s also get real: more of you than are, wherever you attend, should. If not for you, for others; I’d say, for both.)

All of that said, just about any pastor worthy of any trust, pandemic times or not, will also understand me when I say that the best thing about Mondays is that they are as far as you can get from Sundays. A few of my breed may not admit such. They are probably also the ones who say they enjoy weddings.

Regarding weddings ... Honored to have done them. A privilege to be asked. Love the families I get to share life with. Incredibly proud of and delighted by those weddings that inaugurated heart-warming marriages. But more convinced than ever that a great marriage has less than nothing to do with a big wedding where every gal the bride ever said “Good morning” to is a bridesmaid and the groom is suckin’ air to think of that many friends.

I do know a preacher or two that I trust who claims to like weddings. But it still tends to be, maybe just to me, a red flag. “Judge not.” I know. But a little discernment doesn’t always cross that line and recognizing a red flag can be a valuable life skill. For example, not everyone who wears a bluetooth phone earpiece habitually for no work-related reason is an idiot and well worth avoiding; in my estimation, for what it’s worth, which is nothing, two perfectly good strikes remain. And I’m glad to have been proven wrong here more than once. What’s on your red flag list? I find such lists interesting.

OK, I was going to say something profound to wrap this up and salvage my space this week. I don’t think this is redeemable. May I just ask that you come back next week? It’ll be profound, I’m sure.

In the meantime, I’ll say with real thanksgiving, I am immensely thankful to the Giver of all good gifts. Please forgive me for thinking that one of those great gifts is called Monday.

Curtis Shelburne writes about faith for The Eastern New Mexico News. Contact him at

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