There are, broadly speaking, two kinds of Monday mornings.
There is the theoretical Monday morning — the one we imagine on Sunday afternoon — where we rise gracefully, greet the day with quiet dignity, and perhaps even say our prayers before the coffee finishes brewing.
And then there is the actual Monday morning.
The alarm goes off.
We negotiate with it.
It goes off again.
We begin to suspect that resurrection life may not, in fact, include immunity from early rising.
And yet…
Here we are.
Alive.
Awake (eventually).
And, whether we feel like it or not, standing once again in the bright, slightly insistent light of Easter.
Because Easter does not politely avoid Mondays.
It shows up right in the middle of them.
Now, this is not always obvious.
There is very little about a Monday morning that immediately suggests triumph over death. The inbox has not been rolled away. The schedule remains firmly in place. The list of things to do has multiplied quietly overnight, like loaves and fishes in reverse.
But Easter joy has never depended on ideal conditions.
It depends on a risen Christ.
And the remarkable thing about the risen Christ is this:
He does not wait for us to feel ready.
He meets us as we are.
In the half-awake prayer.
In the slightly hurried breakfast.
In the drive, the walk, the first conversation of the day.
In the pastoral visit that unfolds gently.
In the unexpected interruption that turns out to be holy.
In the moment when someone needs a word of kindness — and we discover, to our surprise, that we have one to give.
Resurrection life is not reserved for grand occasions.
It is woven into the fabric of ordinary days.
Even Mondays.
Especially Mondays.
Which means that this morning — this ordinary, slightly reluctant, coffee-assisted beginning— is already full of grace.
Christ is alive.
And He is not standing at a distance, waiting for us to catch up.
He is already here.
In the day ahead.
In the work before us.
In the people we will meet.
Even in the alarm clock that, quite unintentionally, has summoned us into another day of resurrection life.
So take a breath.
Take another sip of coffee.
And step into this day not as a burden to be endured, but as a gift to be received.
Because Christ is risen.
And Monday morning has never quite known what to do with that.
Alleluia.
Companion Prayer
Risen Lord,
You meet us at the start of each new day,
even when we arrive a little slowly.
Be present in our waking,
our working,
and our walking through this day.
Fill our ordinary moments with your grace,
our conversations with your kindness,
and our tasks with your purpose.
Give us joy that does not depend on circumstance,
and hope that carries us forward.
And remind us always
that every morning is touched
by your resurrection.
Amen.