When I worked at Taco Bell, I made sure my boss knew from the start I wouldn't be working on Sundays.
Our arrangement worked well until one day when we got a new boss. He immediately put me on the schedule for the next Sunday.
I pulled him aside and informed him this wouldn't be happening. He told me if I didn't show up on Sunday, I shouldn't bother showing up on Monday either. Or any other day.
I didn't show, and neither of us ever mentioned it again. We understood each other and had an unspoken truce.
But as smug as I was over that small victory, I'm as hypocritical as the next Christian when it comes to my expectations of how others observe the Sabbath.
We're ready to throw down if our boss asks us to work on Sunday. We've got pocketfuls of righteous indignation ready if he dares ask. But that same indignation gets a little less righteous when the tables are turned, doesn't it?
It's Sunday. We've enjoyed a challenging and life-changing sermon. We grab our Bibles and herd our families to the car. We remember to drive like Christians, and let folks in front of us. We smile and wave. We're proud of ourselves; we're good Christians.
We hum a hymn on the way to the restaurant. We skip up to the door, and then things turn ugly. The restaurant is closed.
How dare they? Don't they know we hurried over here with plenty of time to beat the Baptists? We're here as a family, and we're hungry! It's not like folks who work in restaurants are Christians, you know. They shouldn't be taking Sunday off. I bet they don't have families, either. This is highly inconvenient. I bet they're at home watching football, and aren't thinking about me at all.
Well, if we can't eat out, at least we can get some shopping done. Why is this store closed too? Wow, even the mall closes early today. It's like today is special or something.
Thanks to these people, I can't get my to-do list done today. They're making me waste my weekend.