I went to church today with a tray full of cookies and a heart full of hope. The cookies, my signature recipe of molasses cookies made into sandwich cookies with the butter cream frosting in the middle, are the now expected item I bring to covered dish events, in this case the luncheon after the church service. The open, expectant heart is how I live on my good days.
As a member of the choir I needed to take my tray to the fellowship hall as quickly as I could walk downstairs so I could get to the music room, while having a delightful conversation with a woman I often sit by in choir about the delicious meat we were served at the pig pickin' the night before. Finding my seat in the choir loft I began to adhere my page stickers onto the pages of songs selected for service designated in the bulletin. We would then have a short rehearsal and stop in time for me to make a brief visit to the ladies room and even get a quick drink of juice.
Walking back into the sanctuary as the pews began to fill I noticed a woman lighting a candle, pausing momentarily to remember someone. Though I wanted to do the same without any specific intention in mind, I decided not to intrude on her prayer so I went on to my place.
Sitting in the choir I am surrounded by a musical family. We all sing our parts and though some of us do not always hit the right notes, our hearts are in the right place. We sing in unison; we sing in harmonies. We sing together to lead the rest of the congregation into the worship of God.
At some point in the service as the guest pastor was illustrating the gospel of Mark and telling us to listen to Jesus, I felt this overwhelming presence near me, around me, over me, within me. It was not of my own doing as I try not to draw attention to myself, especially when I am sitting in front of the entire church. I was grateful that the communion table had been lifted up to the higher step to serve as a wall of partition just in case I were to become emotional. It was more than a feeling, however, or even an emotional moment. It was exactly where God knew I would be, waiting for inspiration, hoping for a word from him. It was time for our divine appointment.
And just like that, this rush of words came at me saying, "Why is it so hard for you to trust me?"
After all of these years, I thought this was the sort of thing he was going to finally explain to me and not the other way around!
My mind went into overdrive as I contemplated to what the Creator of the Universe could possibly be referring? But I knew. Before him were laid bare: my thoughts, my concerns, my worries, my issues. Countless sleepless nights have been the norm as of late. Unclear focus has kept me from finding healing through the expression of my thoughts in words.Trapped in a purgatory of unfinished sentences, incomplete ideas and random emotional outbursts, I had not been fully aware of how much could be attributed to physical phenomena, what part has been an emotional burden for me to bear and where the Spirit of God fits in. Waiting, I had hoped the numbness that was eventually creeping in would not come to redefine my spiritual path.
I have seen the provision of the Lord so many times in so many miraculous ways I have no right to question. But I do. My oldest son is in his final year of college and will graduate debt-free because he was accepted into a program that has provided for his financial need. My middle son is rejoicing as he is being accepted as a musician and a runner at the beginning of his college education, also receiving a generous amount of aid to pay his bills. And my youngest son, who has been on my heart a lot lately, went forward to light his own candle today while my husband sat in the pew, tired yet happy in his new job--a position offered to him on the very day that his current position was suddenly in transition.
With my family in good shape, my mind wandered to the condition of my church family. Can I trust God with them? The guest pastor said, "The way you love your neighbor is the way you love God. The way you love God is the way you love your neighbor." Are we as a congregation loving each other well? How can anyone say he loves God whom he does not see when he does not love his brother who is standing right beside him? I've read this in the Bible long enough to know God is not calling us to do something impossible. He is asking us to love him so he can teach us how to love each other. We can love because of the love he puts in our hearts. We can only come up with so much on our own. The truest, purest love originates from him. It is for us to wait and to pray that he can find room in our hearts to contain the kind of love this world needs. He loves through us, loving us in the process.
Becoming an elder has enlarged my heart and has made me more capable to love. I am not the same person. And yet there it is--my ability to trust--being called into question . . . again. And for good reason.
I always thought it was hard for me to trust because of the disappointments in life. When people who are supposed to be trustworthy are not, trusting is a hard lesson to hold onto. But sitting there in my choir loft chair surrounded by the people of God, I knew without a doubt that whatever happens next has no bearing on whether or not I am to trust God. Trusting God stands alone, apart from me.
But what about how I want certain things to turn out? Decisions going the way I want them to? People rising to a standard I want them at? What about what I want? Oh.
This is not blind faith. It is a well-informed decision to listen to a Messiah who has my best interests in mind. And regardless of whether I have some really great ideas about how to run things, I AM NOT IN CHARGE. To try to take what God has not given--namely his authority--is to run the risk of being on the outside looking in. It is to strive for peace but never achieve any. It is to be constantly considering the possibilities instead of letting go of the outcome. It takes away the peace because the constant search of the understanding gets in the way.
Breathing deeply and trying to wipe away the tears quickly so no one would see, I finished out the service by singing very appropriately, "We shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace." I felt like I wanted to embrace everyone and love even the most unlovable. I wanted to greet the members of this church family God has given me, holding them close to my heart. I want to trust that God knows what he is doing.
As a member of the choir I needed to take my tray to the fellowship hall as quickly as I could walk downstairs so I could get to the music room, while having a delightful conversation with a woman I often sit by in choir about the delicious meat we were served at the pig pickin' the night before. Finding my seat in the choir loft I began to adhere my page stickers onto the pages of songs selected for service designated in the bulletin. We would then have a short rehearsal and stop in time for me to make a brief visit to the ladies room and even get a quick drink of juice.
Walking back into the sanctuary as the pews began to fill I noticed a woman lighting a candle, pausing momentarily to remember someone. Though I wanted to do the same without any specific intention in mind, I decided not to intrude on her prayer so I went on to my place.
Sitting in the choir I am surrounded by a musical family. We all sing our parts and though some of us do not always hit the right notes, our hearts are in the right place. We sing in unison; we sing in harmonies. We sing together to lead the rest of the congregation into the worship of God.
At some point in the service as the guest pastor was illustrating the gospel of Mark and telling us to listen to Jesus, I felt this overwhelming presence near me, around me, over me, within me. It was not of my own doing as I try not to draw attention to myself, especially when I am sitting in front of the entire church. I was grateful that the communion table had been lifted up to the higher step to serve as a wall of partition just in case I were to become emotional. It was more than a feeling, however, or even an emotional moment. It was exactly where God knew I would be, waiting for inspiration, hoping for a word from him. It was time for our divine appointment.
And just like that, this rush of words came at me saying, "Why is it so hard for you to trust me?"
After all of these years, I thought this was the sort of thing he was going to finally explain to me and not the other way around!
My mind went into overdrive as I contemplated to what the Creator of the Universe could possibly be referring? But I knew. Before him were laid bare: my thoughts, my concerns, my worries, my issues. Countless sleepless nights have been the norm as of late. Unclear focus has kept me from finding healing through the expression of my thoughts in words.Trapped in a purgatory of unfinished sentences, incomplete ideas and random emotional outbursts, I had not been fully aware of how much could be attributed to physical phenomena, what part has been an emotional burden for me to bear and where the Spirit of God fits in. Waiting, I had hoped the numbness that was eventually creeping in would not come to redefine my spiritual path.
I have seen the provision of the Lord so many times in so many miraculous ways I have no right to question. But I do. My oldest son is in his final year of college and will graduate debt-free because he was accepted into a program that has provided for his financial need. My middle son is rejoicing as he is being accepted as a musician and a runner at the beginning of his college education, also receiving a generous amount of aid to pay his bills. And my youngest son, who has been on my heart a lot lately, went forward to light his own candle today while my husband sat in the pew, tired yet happy in his new job--a position offered to him on the very day that his current position was suddenly in transition.
With my family in good shape, my mind wandered to the condition of my church family. Can I trust God with them? The guest pastor said, "The way you love your neighbor is the way you love God. The way you love God is the way you love your neighbor." Are we as a congregation loving each other well? How can anyone say he loves God whom he does not see when he does not love his brother who is standing right beside him? I've read this in the Bible long enough to know God is not calling us to do something impossible. He is asking us to love him so he can teach us how to love each other. We can love because of the love he puts in our hearts. We can only come up with so much on our own. The truest, purest love originates from him. It is for us to wait and to pray that he can find room in our hearts to contain the kind of love this world needs. He loves through us, loving us in the process.
Becoming an elder has enlarged my heart and has made me more capable to love. I am not the same person. And yet there it is--my ability to trust--being called into question . . . again. And for good reason.
I always thought it was hard for me to trust because of the disappointments in life. When people who are supposed to be trustworthy are not, trusting is a hard lesson to hold onto. But sitting there in my choir loft chair surrounded by the people of God, I knew without a doubt that whatever happens next has no bearing on whether or not I am to trust God. Trusting God stands alone, apart from me.
But what about how I want certain things to turn out? Decisions going the way I want them to? People rising to a standard I want them at? What about what I want? Oh.
This is not blind faith. It is a well-informed decision to listen to a Messiah who has my best interests in mind. And regardless of whether I have some really great ideas about how to run things, I AM NOT IN CHARGE. To try to take what God has not given--namely his authority--is to run the risk of being on the outside looking in. It is to strive for peace but never achieve any. It is to be constantly considering the possibilities instead of letting go of the outcome. It takes away the peace because the constant search of the understanding gets in the way.
Breathing deeply and trying to wipe away the tears quickly so no one would see, I finished out the service by singing very appropriately, "We shall go out with joy and be led forth with peace." I felt like I wanted to embrace everyone and love even the most unlovable. I wanted to greet the members of this church family God has given me, holding them close to my heart. I want to trust that God knows what he is doing.
I was struck with guilt that I treat most of my neighbors with benign neglect. Is that also how I am treating God? Good grief.
ReplyDeleteNot sure you should be ridden with guilt, but it is a good question to ask once in awhile. Thanks for reading.
ReplyDelete