The word bored wasn’t (isn’t) allowed in the Dorr household. My parents never exactly told us that, but we knew—perhaps innately—it wasn’t a word we should utter in our parents’ presence if we ever wanted to see (a) the sunshine, (b) our friends, or (c) joy again.

I wish that rule applied to the rest of the world.

I also wish that we weren’t bored with the things of God.

We’re bored with His Word because we don’t really believe it means what it says.

We’re bored with the Divine Service because we’re already worrying about the brunch line.

We’re bored with the liturgy because it’s old.

We’re bored with church because we can’t focus long enough to pay attention for an hour.

We’re bored with each other because we’re too lazy to invest in our life together.

We’re bored with hymns because they’re old too.

We’re bored with sermons because we don’t think they apply to us.

We’re bored with Bible class because we don’t really believe Scripture has all that much to teach us.

But it’s not the faith that’s boring.

It’s us.

We are a boring lot of people.

That’s why we don’t get to whine, “I’m bored.”

Because of the cross, we get to say, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” (Luke 18:38).

And He does.

And there’s nothing—absolutely nothing—boring about that.