There is a very particular kind of excitement that comes over a parish priest on a Saturday afternoon.
To the untrained observer, it looks remarkably like a man wandering around the church muttering to himself.
“Where did I leave the sermon?”
“Did anyone refill the baptismal font?”
“Is the Gospel Book on the lectern or did I bring it home after Bible study?”
“Please tell me I remembered to charge the microphone.”
It is all very dignified.
Stephen Leacock would probably have observed that clergy possess a unique ability to spend an entire Saturday preparing for one hour on Sunday while somehow misplacing the very notes they spent all week writing. He would also have noted that no matter how carefully one plans, someone will inevitably ask, five minutes before the service begins, “Father… do you happen to have a stapler?”
Yes. We always have a stapler.
I sometimes think Saturday is the Church’s version of Holy Saturday. Everything is quiet. The building is still. The pews sit empty. Yet beneath the silence there is wonderful anticipation. Tomorrow these halls will fill with laughter, prayers, music, children, coffee, whispered greetings, familiar faces and perhaps one or two people walking through the doors for the very first time.
There is something deeply hopeful about preparing before anyone arrives.
It reminds me that faith is often built in unseen moments.
The altar is prepared before the congregation gathers.
The bread is baked before it is broken.
The musicians practise before anyone sings.
The gardeners water flowers long before anyone notices them.
God seems remarkably fond of quiet preparation.
Of course, preparation has its limits.
After thirty-three years of ordained ministry, I have discovered one unchanging law of parish life:
If absolutely everything goes according to plan, someone is visiting from out of town.
If something unexpected happens, everyone from the bishop to the smallest child will remember it forever.
I still remember one Sunday many years ago when everything was perfectly arranged. The sermon was polished. The vestments were laid out. Every bulletin was folded with military precision. I felt positively apostolic.
Then I discovered, just before the service, that I had carefully packed…the wrong stole.
The colour wasn’t even close.
There I stood looking rather like a liturgical traffic light wondering whether anyone would notice.
They did.
They always do.
Thankfully, congregations are wonderfully forgiving. Most have long since accepted that their priest is an ordinary human being doing his best with coffee, prayer, and occasionally insufficient sleep.
There is grace in that.
The older I become, the more I realize that preparing for Sunday is about far more than gathering papers or checking microphones.
It is about preparing my own heart.
Before I can invite others into worship, I need to remember that I am coming as a worshipper too.
Before I preach grace, I need to receive grace.
Before I proclaim hope, I need to remember why I have hope.
Perhaps that is true for all of us.
Saturday evenings invite us to pause before another busy week begins. We lay out clothes for tomorrow. We make lunches. We charge phones. We fill the car with gas. We check calendars.
Those are good things.
But perhaps we might also prepare our souls.
Offer forgiveness before bedtime.
Read a Psalm.
Say thank you.
Pray for someone who is struggling.
Remember that tomorrow is not simply another square on the calendar. It is another opportunity to meet the living Christ.
Most of us spend a great deal of time preparing for life.
God quietly spends every day preparing life for us.
And unlike priests, God never forgets where the sermon notes are.
Thanks be to God for that.
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Companion Prayer
Gracious God,
As we prepare for tomorrow, prepare us as well. While we make our plans, remind us to make room for your Spirit. While we gather what we need for the week ahead, help us also gather gratitude, patience, and hope.
Ready our hearts to worship, our minds to listen, and our hands to serve. May we remember that your grace has already gone ahead of us, preparing the way before we arrive.
And when our own careful plans go delightfully awry, teach us to laugh, trust you a little more, and discover your blessings in the unexpected.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.