How To Make Holy Week Feel Less Like Hell Week

The "I don't know if I can survive Holy Week!" Facebook statuses started appearing in my feed from pastor-type friends about a week ago. Last year they got more intense as the week bore down, followed by a crescendo of "Let's rock out for Jesus!" statuses on Easter morning, ending on Easter Sunday afternoon with a fading morendo of statuses that said something along the lines of "He is Risen! Time for a nap."

I know it's a wacky week, my friends, especially if you throw in a funeral or two. Been through it more than a dozen times myself. But let's be honest, there is something horribly wrong with the way we're doing it if Holy Week feels more like Hell Week to those who are called to lead us through it.

Here's a tip for making Holy Week a wee bit holier, especially for those with a few sermons still left to write:

Leave The Building - Now!

I used to go to the food court at the mall to write my Easter sermon - usually on Saturday afternoon when it was crowded with last minute shoppers. Did the same thing on Christmas Eve around lunch time every year. In fact, I spent as much time out of the building as I could during these really busy seasons. Community Easter egg hunts. City Christmas tree lighting ceremonies. You name it.

Getting out of the building to spend time in the places where most of my neighbors were hanging out helped me remember that my part in the whole holiday event was just a tiny piece of what most people were going to experience that day. That helped put me, myself, and I in perspective. In other words, it got me out of the way and made space for God.

Secondly, getting out of the building reconnected me with real people and real life and reminded me that whatever I was going to say ought to connect with them, too. So what if the music isn't perfect, the announcement sheet is full of typos, and I forget to collect the offering? So what if I can't think of something really NEW and FRESH and AMAZING to say this Good Friday - Easter Sunday? What really matters is does this matter to people? Does it feel honest? Does it make sense? In other words, am I talking like real people talk about things that make a difference to real people, even on the Monday after Easter? Sitting at the mall helped me remember that I am a real person, too - that I do, in fact, know how to speak that language - and that I, too, need all this stuff to make a difference in my everyday life. It not only made me a better worship leader and preacher; it strengthened my own faith.

Third, watching the people who worked at the Mall - and who, by the way, were working like crazy on a holiday - helped prevent me from wallowing in self-pity because I was so terribly busy. A lot of people are busy during holiday seasons - working overtime, stressed out, juggling family obligations - and many of them making a lot less money – without the kudos – that I got as a pastor. As a matter of fact, a lot of people work just as hard (if not harder) at jobs that are just as stressful (if not a lot more stressful), all the time. Police. Firefighters. ER nurses. The cashier at Old Navy during peak hours in the middle of a holiday sale. And a lot of them won't get naps when they home from work - they'll clean the house, make dinner, entertain friends. Some of them will even get up after all that and come sing in the choir for three services. Hanging out at the crossroads during these peak times reminded me that my busyness wasn't exactly unique. Somehow that helped me deal with it better - and probably made me a lot easier to live with.

But the most important thing that getting out of the building did for me was to remind me that God is on the loose in the world - bigger than the worship services I was planning, bigger than the building I was spending so much time in, bigger than me. God is out there at the crossroads right now - at work in and through people at the mall, in our schools, at the park, in our offices, in our homes. And God's going to be there on Easter Monday, too. God is right here, right now, with me. With you. Bringing hope. Doing justice. Giving love away. Christ is risen, remember?! Not just was.

It took the pressure off, somehow, to remember this.

Maybe you will need a nap on Easter Sunday afternoon. But I challenge you to do this week in such a way that you won't need it because you're on the edge of exhaustion. Both your congregation and your family will thank you.