It's a bit late, and I'm a bit tired, so I'll try to be quick-ish.
I really feel like I had a little (big?) miracle in my life last Monday morning. I woke up the day after Easter and had a huge weight of anger and bitterness just lifted off me. As I've started to tell some folks, I still feel like there's a lot of pain and grief to deal with, the problems haven't necessarily gone away, but my framework for entering into it is 180 degrees turned around from where I was. And all I did was wake up. I don't know how it happened--it feels as mysterious and as external to me as that saving faith to believe upon Jesus in the first place, I suppose.
Where was I, for the last four months especially? I didn't love God. I didn't believe that he loved me. Jesus wasn't particularly precious to me, not to my heart at least. I had a mental understanding of the Gospel and tried to preach it to myself here and elsewhere, but not so much faith in it. I showed up as much as I could will myself to church and small group, but I didn't open up, didn't enjoy it, didn't ever know if I would stay to the end, couldn't worship, couldn't pray, didn't feel like reading the Bible. I still had fun here and there with friends and with music, but life wasn't working, and I was just treading water, lamely at that. I was full of anger and bitterness, hatred, self-loathing, heartache, soulache, helplessness, hopelessness, brokenness, resignation.
So coming out of it was a gift. I couldn't make it happen. I couldn't work hard enough to fix my eyes on Jesus. I couldn't make myself stop being angry and bitter. Not to say that I'm not still responsible for my actions during this time, by any stretch. But it makes me wonder just how much control I have, even in my reactions to the circumstances of my life. I honestly feel like I couldn't will myself out of it, couldn't deliver myself by praying harder, engaging with scripture more (or at all). And all those inward/outward things feel like they have limited value if the heart simply doesn't love God--isn't truly captured by His love. I was hollow, incapable of making myself love God (of course).
I'm still unpacking this latest season of life and what that all means, so I don't know. Something about God's sovereignty. And my need/helplessness. But also--should I be more unsettled than I am by my deliverance? Or more at peace than I am? At the moment, I feel kind of in the middle.
In the meantime, like I said, there are still plenty of broken things to deal with, plenty of painful, hurtful things that I'll try to take one at a time as they come up on the radar. It still hurts plenty, but it's different now. I still really like that I wrote everything that I wrote in the last four months, the last year. And I still feel a clear continuity through that whole arc of reflections and struggling to where I am now. I don't know what's coming next, but I'll try to remember this little miracle and let myself be held by my Deliverer through it all.
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So, in light of all that, tonight at church I took Communion for the first time in a long time. I would've given the offering that I've been setting aside for a while, too, except there was some unexpected busyness right before church, and so I forgot. But I'm looking forward to being able to give that.
I made it through the whole service, sang out in worship, even hung out afterward and mingled with friends--I've always been leaving immediately for the last few months so as to avoid engaging with anyone if I can help it. All of that really is such a miracle to me, God drawing me out of darkness. I honestly couldn't have imagined ever feeling ok again at my church.
Speaking of Communion, I had a thought about it a few weeks ago, as I was feeling a real need for the bread and the wine, but still felt a deep alienation from my church community and just didn't feel right about presenting myself to the altar to receive:
There's no such thing as self-serve communion, right? It has to be served to you. You receive it in public, before other brothers and sisters in the faith--it's a declaration, not something done alone after everybody else has left the building. Which is a good thing.
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Sidenote: I played cello for the morning services at Christ Community Church (in a suburb south of Nashville) this morning, and after the services, Steve Green came up to me, introduced himself, and asked for my info, mentioning that he goes on the road sometimes. Not having grown up listening to Christian music, I didn't recognize him, but I have since googled him, and my friends seem to remember him primarily as the first lead singer for White Heart back in the 80's. In any case, I gave him my info, so who knows.
