"..... And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had made."
"And God blessed the seventh day and sanctified it." ~~~ From the beginning of Chap Two - Genesis
The men, stiff in their Sunday go to Meeting best, stand across the main walkway in small groups smoking and speaking in low voices. Their macho affection is passed hand to hand or the occasional squeeze of a shoulder. An irreverent laugh is heard from one group or the other causing some of the flock to purse their lips in disapproval. How dare levity be allowed to break the solemn moment about to come.
A church elder opens the two big doors. Organ music flows out to the crowd announcing this week's broadcast from Station WGOD is about to begin. Cigarettes are crushed, ties adjusted, and dresses smoothed. The two genders come together on the main walk and re-group with family and close friends. They head into church to find their seats.
This is how I remember it. Not this exactly. but something like this happened every Sunday in the first 13 years of my life. Sunday was a big deal in my youth. Such a big deal in fact, I soon realized at about age 8, that if this was supposed to be a day of rest to honor our creator, then why did we spend the better part of an otherwise perfectly good day not following the example he had set. God was taking a breather, then by jeezus, so should we.
Spending an hour getting ready to go to church, another 30 minutes in the car to get to church and then an hour plus alternating from sitting to kneeling and back again. Back in the car and another 30 minutes home ......... well, in my childish mind, this church going activity could hardly be considered restful. Not for me, that was for sure. Going to church was the most work I did all week. The six other days of the week I was busy being a kid wearing holes in my knees and not washing behind my ears. Church on Sunday for me as kid was an obligatory punishment like sitting in the corner at school. Only I had done nothing wrong. I had broken no rules. Why was I being punished?
When I grew older and decided that God really didn't keep very good tabs on us, I went my own way. But just in case he was there and paying attention to the silliness of me and what I got into, I hedged my bets and honored his command to not do anything on that seventh day of the week whenever I could.
On Sunday, Laziness is next to Godliness ................ That's my take anyway.