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Saint Dirty Face

Tag: #SundayRambles

  • The Great Debate: Is Sunday the End… or the Beginning?

    Robert

    Short answer?

    Sunday is the BEGINNING of the week.

    Long answer? Breathe… here we go.

    🕯️ Biblically Speaking

    In the Book of Genesis, God created the world in six days and rested on the seventh.

    That seventh day? Saturday.

    Which means…

    ✅ Day 1 = Sunday ✅ Day 7 = Saturday (the Sabbath)

    Sunday was never meant to be the couch day hangover from Saturday night.

    It was always meant to be Day One.

    📅 Historically Speaking

    Ancient calendars — Jewish, Roman, early Christian — all start the week on Sunday.

    The modern “Monday is the start” thing?

    That’s a workweek invention, not a sacred one.

    (Blame Excel spreadsheets and alarm clocks.)

    ✝️ Spiritually Speaking

    Sunday became the Lord’s Day because it marks resurrection — not rest.

    Sabbath = rest Sunday = renewal Breath back in the lungs Light cracks the darkness Game resets

    Sunday is not the sigh at the end.

    It’s the inhale before the punch.

    🧠 Saint Dirty Face Translation

    If Sunday feels like the end of your weekend, that’s culture talking.

    If Sunday feels like a reset — quiet coffee, reflection, grace — that’s your soul remembering the original plan.

    Rest your body on Saturday.

    Reboot your spirit on Sunday.

    Then walk into Monday like hell already lost.

    Final Word

    Sunday isn’t the end of something good.

    It’s the start of something clean.

    Stay dirty. Start fresh.

    Let Monday deal with its own sins.

    — Saint Dirty Face™

    ✌️ & ❤️

  • 🧠 I Haven’t Lost All My Marbles (Yet)

    Robert

    By Saint Dirty Face™

    You ever feel like you’re holding it together with duct tape, caffeine, and blind faith?

    Same.

    I haven’t lost all my marbles yet… but there’s definitely a hole in the bag somewhere.

    Maybe that’s just what life does — pokes holes, tests the seams, and dares you to keep carrying the damn bag anyway.

    Some marbles roll off into jobs, kids, bills, deadlines. Some just disappear into the cosmic couch cushions of existence.

    And yet, somehow, the bag’s still mostly full.

    A little leaky. But functional.

    So if you’re wobbling into Monday wondering where your sanity went…

    Just remember: it’s not gone. It’s probably just under the fridge with the dog hair and that one sock you swore vanished in 2018.

    Stay Dirty, Stay Human™

    –––

    Saint Dirty Face™

  • No Rest for the Wicked

    Robert

    Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest.

    But nooo… these kids had other plans.

    “I need this.”

    “I need that.”

    MF.

    Then it’s:

    “Clean this.”

    “Clean that.”

    Finally I sit down—barely warm the chair—

    “What’s for dinner?”

    Grrrr.

    At this rate the only rest I’ll get is when I finally collapse in bed…

    just to wake up and go straight back to the grind.

    A Sunday that feels like a Monday with a mask on.

    No rest for the wicked… or the parents.

    I love my clan—don’t get me wrong.

    But some Sundays feel like the universe runs a boot-camp for parents.

    You dream of naps, you get “clean this, fix that, feed us.”

    You reach for peace, but it’s hiding behind a pile of dirty laundry.

    So here’s my toast to all the tired rebels out there:

    We’ll rest when the house is quiet, the kids are grown,

    and Monday can’t find us.

    Until then, we grind.

    We laugh.

    We curse under our breath.

    And we keep the cracked halo crooked but standing.

    Stay Dirty. Stay Human™.

    — SDF

  • THE ROOM JUDAS WALKED INTO ⚡

    Robert

    Posted on a Sunday, because why should saints have all the fun?

    He was carried.
    Not condemned.
    Not cast away.
    But carried.

    Picture it:
    The clink of silver in a dusty pocket.
    The echo of a kiss on a holy cheek.
    A man walking—not running—into the shadows.

    Judas didn’t bolt from his sin;
    he folded into it.
    Quietly.
    Alone.

    You know that feeling, don’t you?
    That stone-on-your-chest guilt,
    the “no one could possibly love me now” soundtrack
    spinning at 3 AM?

    Here’s the kicker, friend:
    God still had him.

    Yeah—that guy.
    The betrayer.
    The sellout.
    The one we trash in Sunday sermons.

    ONE SET OF FOOTPRINTS

    We love that old “footprints in the sand” poem when it’s about us,
    but Judas?

    In the hours after betrayal,
    the sand of his soul still bore
    only one set of footprints.

    Divine steps.
    Carrying steps.
    Mercy in motion.

    But shame?
    Shame will whisper you out of grace’s arms.

    And Judas, broken, blind,
    drowning in self-loathing,
    climbed down from those arms.

    He thought grace had a limit.
    He believed failure was final.

    He was wrong.

    THE CROSSROADS

    There was a moment.
    A flicker.
    A choice.

    One path whispered,
    “Come back, son.”

    The other hissed,
    “You’re too far gone.”

    We know the road Judas took.
    But… what if?

    What if he had crashed at the foot of the cross,
    weeping like Peter,
    shattered but reaching?

    What if he’d let himself
    be carried just a little longer?

    THE ARMS THAT WAITED

    The same arms that pulled Peter from the waves,
    that wrapped the leper in scandalous embrace,
    that hauled the prodigal from pig pens,

    were waiting.

    Still are.

    💥 FINAL THOUGHTS: THE ROOM YOU WALK INTO

    This isn’t just Judas’ story.
    It’s yours.
    It’s mine.
    It’s anyone who’s ever whispered,
    “I’ve gone too far.”

    Here’s the Sunday truth bomb:

    ✝️ Grace doesn’t break.
    ✝️ Mercy isn’t rationed.
    ✝️ God isn’t scared of your worst day.

    So if you find yourself
    in that room—

    Don’t unpack.
    Don’t bolt the door.

    Let yourself be carried.

    Just a little longer.

    😏 SPICY POSTSCRIPT

    Let me be blunt:
    If you think you’ve blown it so bad
    that heaven slammed the door—

    You’re not that powerful, honey.

    Your sin doesn’t scare God.
    Your mess doesn’t revoke His promises.

    Hell trembles when a wrecked soul
    dares to believe in a love
    that still wants them.

    So walk outta that room,
    or hell—better yet—
    let Him carry you out.

    🔥 “Imperfect on purpose. Sharp-tongued by design. NSFW by divine accident.”
    🚀 #SaintDirtyFace, #RockstarFaith, #TheRoomJudasWalkedInto, #SundayRambles, #MercyInMotion