That's what my husband says on Monday mornings, when he leaves for work with a sermon already on his mind. He's on the clock, and time is ticking away.
I imagine that our worship leader, Joseph, senses the urgency as well as he listens for the Spirit's leading, chooses songs, gathers the team for practice, and prepares his own heart for Sunday's corporate worship.
Adam, our pastor overseeing children's ministry, is likely enlisting teachers, collecting materials, and plotting creative ways to teach the gospel to young hearts that will gather in a few days.
Sunday's coming for me, too. I'm the pastor's wife. I won't preach or sing or lead the children this Sunday. In fact, it might appear to most people that I won't do much at all. But I know the truth. I know and embrace that God has given me unique holy orders to help my husband and minister to others, mostly in unseen ways.
I'm praying, as I do every Sunday morning, that my eyes would turn outward toward others and upward toward the Lord in worship, that I would not think about myself or my silly insecurities, that I would hear from the Lord and bless Him with how I love others.
I'm praying that God would ordain conversations, that He would lead me to specific people who need encouragement, prayer, or even a simple welcome.
I'm considering my gifts and saying no to good things that pull me away from where I know God wants to use me. My excitement about exercising my gifts is growing as I anticipate Sunday.
I'm remembering my children. How can I help them learn and grow at church? How can I balance my service in the church with my mothering priorities on Sunday?
I'm reminding myself of how Jesus said that it's better to give than to receive. For that reason, I am making mental notes of people I want to pursue on Sunday morning: those who are hurting, those who I have been praying for, those who I've been thinking about.
In all of it, outward and upward.
Because Sunday's coming.