My duty had been on Tuesdays and Saturdays for the last few weeks and weeks to come. Tuesday duties are far easier as I am in charge of the ward for only half the day. The Saturday duties are quite different, as I am in charge through the 24 hours.
Nonetheless, I am still able to slip in some hours of sleep, but my Sundays start with grueling tiredness altogether. As much as I feel comfortable with my relationship with Christ again following religion, not attending church on Sundays still brings in gentle guilt.
After sleeping most of the morning away, I somewhat drag myself to church half asleep. As I head into the hall, I feel something is different. It was Holy Sunday, the day celebrated as the resurrection of Christ.
It just seemed so long ago that I had a big stirring in my heart when thinking upon Jesus. With time, I learned to have certainty about my resurrection, my being with Christ at the end of my life. Today, however, it all seemed to be in my head, only in my thoughts did I feel like I would be in heaven. Was I truly sure that I would be with Christ?
Resurrection, I believe, yet I felt so unassured about it. I really just wanted to meet God,, truly experience his presence.
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