Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down. The song, and its lonesome lyrics, seemed to be the theme song of my Sunday mornings, when I sat at home or worked each Sunday and didn’t go to church.
Each Sunday seemed to be boring to me with no life in them. For a couple of years, I worked as a disk jockey on WMFL Radio in Monticello, Florida, playing gospel music, Billy Graham’s Hour of Decision broadcast and a 15-minute broadcast by a local African American minister named Willie Cuyler. My workday would close with a show called Country Crossroads, hosted by longtime country music DJ Bill Mack and comedian Jerry Clower, as they shared the Word of God through the music and musicians of Nashville. I would close out the shift by playing country gospel songs, sang by country singers. My sign-off song for Sunday was a song, written by Rusty Goodman, called “(Home) Where I Belong.” The version was sang by B.J. Thomas, who was most famous for his songs, “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head” and “Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song.”
Later, as my life would go on, and I would grow apart from the church more and more, I found myself just sitting at home on a Sunday morning, watching televangelists like Jimmy Swaggart, Oral Roberts and Rex Humbard and just feeling like the lyrics that Kris Kristofferson wrote and Johnny Cash sang on “Sunday Morning Coming Down.” Still later, work consumed my Sunday mornings while the song still haunted and taunted me. Then even later, it was back to staying at home each Sunday morning, watching television and TV evangelists, such as Charles Stanley, while the same lonesome lyrics went across my mind.Kris Kristofferson and Johnny Cash
In 1994, however, as my mother began to grow ill and put up a fight with her diabetes that would last until she went to be with Jesus in the early months of 1999, I began attending church again. I rededicated my commitment to Christ. I had a relationship with Christ before but something had been missing and I discovered that it had been attending church. In those 20 years, since I have returned to church, I have hardly missed a Sunday. The loneliness of the lyrics to “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” evade me. This morning, I woke up to the song playing its frets inside my head and I was reminded of the loneliness. Later, I saw a post of Facebook where a friend had posted that he was listening to the song. I thought, “Weird” because I had awakened to the song. Songs being songs and lyrics being lyrics, they affect each person differently and I am sure that my friend was not assaulted with the same loneliness that the song once gave me.
I will head to church today and not worry about the loneliness of a Sunday gnawing at my nerves because I know that this, like all days, is a day that the Lord has made and I will rejoice and be glad in it. (Psalm 118:24)

Below (courtesy of http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/johnnycash/sundaymornincomindown.html) are the lyrics to the “Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down” :

“Sunday Mornin’ Comin’ Down”

Well I woke up Sunday morning

With no way to hold my head, that didn’t hurt
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.I’d smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and the songs I’d been pickin’
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playin’ with a can that he was kicking
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone’s fryin’ chicken
And it took me back to somethin’
That I’d lost somewhere, somehow along the way.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I’m wishing Lord that I was stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleepin’ city sidewalk
And Sunday mornin’ comin’ down.

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughin’ little girl who he was swingin’
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singin’
Then I headed down the street
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringin’
And it echoed thru the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk
I’m wishing Lord that I was stoned
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothin’ short of dyin’
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of a sleepin’ city sidewalk
And Sunday mornin’ comin’ down.