Sunday has always held significance in my life. In my family when I was growing up, unless you were seriously ill, church attendance was mandatory. And in my adult life, all I've ever been is a ministry wife, so again with the mandatory church attendance. There are traditions and precious things about Sunday that are pivotal parts of my life.
All that is changing now. Sitting in the pew alone is a new experience. It's hard to feel right, since I don't really know what I am. I mean, I'm not a staff wife anymore, but I don't feel like a regular church member either. Where do I fit now? I'm not exactly sure, but I do know that in the piece of God's family that is Riverside Church, I fit. I fit before, and somehow I still do. This says amazing things about the Christ following that is happening at this church. Most others would have rid themselves of me, and yet my Riverside fam is holding me still.
Today I cried through church. That isn't unusual, since interaction with God often causes my eyes to leak, but today I cried out of pain, sorrow and loneliness. We sang a song about bringing an offering of worship to God. And I brought mine, broken and pitiful as it is, I brought it. I sat there telling God that I am all His. I told Him that whatever He is doing with my life, I will follow. That's all the offering I have now. So I suppose some of my tears were ones of joy too, knowing that my God and my brothers and sisters didn't care that all I brought today was pain.
So I guess more than all the traditions and hugging and kissing (it's a New Orleans thing, the kissing) and smiling and connecting, and all the stuff I love about Sunday, what I love most of all is that moment of deeply intimate connection with God that is somehow made meaningful because it happens alongside the rest of the family, whether they are aware of it or not. It's a mystery. I can't quite give it words, but that something about Sunday is still there. I sure am glad it is.
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3 comments:
Broken and pitiful offerings are His favorite kind, I think.
It gives me so much relief to hear how your church family is caring for you now. Maybe I can let go of a little bit of my own need to protect you and care for you, since I know people are already doing it well:)
Also, I want to know about this church-kissing thing! It sounds fun:)
HA HA! I'm pretty sure it's not just at church, but anywhere here there's lots of kissing. The French influence in this city, I guess. Mostly cheeks, but still WAY more kissing than would be included in the Florida worship experience. On an average Sunday, I'd say I get kissed about 40 times. It's just a traditional greeting here, but one I didn't grow up with, so it's special to me.
My sister's husband is Cuban, and they kiss as a greeting. I absolutely LOVE it. It always reminds me of holidays when I would see my grandparents who would demand a hug and a kiss for both hello and good-bye.
I'm so relieved to know how well your church family is taking care of you. There's something about the familiar routine, even when there's something not as familiar about it.
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