God, I’m Sorry

Perhaps you heard the collective groan in your neighborhood on Sunday morning. You and your neighbors had dutifully gone around changing clocks in your house on Saturday night – except the one on the VCR that you haven’t figured out yet. Spring forward! It sounds so pleasant, doesn’t it? Then your Sunday morning alarm goes off​. Yeah, I feel your pain.       

​This morning (Sunday) ​I did my share of complaining. I told anyone who would listen that the powers that be should just leave the clock stuff alone. My complaints along with those of my blurry-eyed friends were merely that – complaints. We accomplished nothing other than the mutual bemoaning of our collective plight.

Upon further reflection, I offer an apology – not to the state of Georgia who chose to continue Daylight Savings Time, but to God.

In places like Syria, Egypt and Iran, my fellow Christians suffer repression and persecution because of their faith in Jesus. Over 230 people are presumed dead after a Malaysian Airlines 777 lost contact with air traffic control. There is unrest in Syria and protest in Venezuela. There are countless people in our own nations​ dealing with cancer and many others dealing with grief. All this is taking place, and I am complaining about the loss of an hour’s sleep. God, I am sorry.

ImageThis morning I woke up and got out of comfortable bed fairly well pain free. I had a hot shower, ate a decent breakfast, and drove in my pretty reliable truck to the church building for worship. I gathered with many other believers without fear of persecution. I had a good lunch with good friends and went to a birthday party where I enjoyed more friends and a delicious slice of cake. It was when I walked into my roomy house that it hit me – what do I have to complain about? Or as it is now commonly put “FWP” (First World Problems).

I don’t have to be thrilled about the time change, but was it really worth all the moaning and groaning? How many people around the world would gladly “endure” my problems rather than truly enduring there own. I am blessed. I do not deserve this. I didn’t sign up on a waiting list to be born in America. So ​rather than hunting around for things to complain about, perhaps I should stop and simply​ thank the Lord for all the good things in my life.

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