Sunday Morning Prayer

Lord I thank you that I am not like that guy sitting in the pew over there. He looks like he's just here to impress the ladies, or maybe he's checking them out because he is so lonely and pathetic in his look-at-me cool sweater and slacks.

And I thank you that I'm not like that girl, coming here every week desperately hoping someone will notice her, watching the guy in the sweater to see if he looks her way. She's just like those misfits who populate Match.com. Seriously.

And I thank you that I'm not like those two over there, parents who come to church for no reason other than to make sure their snotty rambunctious curtain climbers get a dose of Christianity. They obviously need a little dose themselves or they wouldn't have such troublesome kids. Maybe they just come for the free baby sitting.

And Lord I so grateful that I'm not like that one, the guy I'm pretty sure I saw coming out of the Canary Inn last night. We know what goes on in there, Lord, and I'm sure you wouldn't approve of most of it. He has a lot of nerve coming here this morning. Like this is going to make up for last night!

And Lord I am so pleased that you have kept me from becoming like the older couple across the aisle who show up every Sunday as if their lives depended on it. They wear their attendance like a badge and make everybody else feel guilty by saying how much they were missed when they happened not to be in services one morning.

And Lord I thank you that I'm not in the place of that woman in the back row who looks like she has lost her last friend, coming here as if this was the Walmart for lonely shoppers, thinking she might just stumble onto some kind of comfort bargain.

Most of all Lord I am glad you kept me from becoming like that guy up front who is on his knees again, bawling about something he's done that he should be ashamed of, expecting us all to pity him or maybe think highly of him because he is sooo spiritual in his weepy way.

And Lord, I know I'm supposed to respect my preacher, and I do pretty much, but I'm relieved that you didn't call me to do his job; it must be tough to stand up in front of a bunch of losers like we see around us and try to keep them awake for twenty minutes every Sunday morning. But really, Lord, could you give him some better material. He's going on this morning about the Sermon on the Mount AGAIN with all that stuff about some Pharisee who didn't know how to pray and that old thing about, "Judge not lest ye be judged," and whatEVER.