Wednesday, August 3, 2016
Faith: In Search Of Quiet Worship
There are things about This Crazy Illness(TM) that make it straight to the blog.. And then there are things that go into journals and are forgotten for awhile..
New symptoms and changes to medicine have converged into a weird mood, with lots to say but not the words or focus to say them.
So I went looking through some things I'd written over the past couple years, and found this. And found it still relevant.
I didn't make it to church this morning. Which is not unusual these days.
For all sorts of reasons... it's a big church, loud, noisy, hard to navigate, parking is ridiculous, navigating downtown streets with people ducking across and parallel parking...
but especially today, which is day 2 of a truly terrible episode of pins-and-needles covering my entire right side, including fingers, arm, shoulder... toes.. eye...
Driving me up the wall and though it sounds like an excuse, I swear it makes every activity (typing, thinking, driving..) seem a hundred times more frustrating.
In any event, I did not make it to church this morning.
For some time, I've been looking for an evening service. There are so many reasons I love church at night. The few times a year we meet in the evening - Ash Wednesday, Maundy Thursday, Christmas Eve - there's something about the quiet, calm, ending of a day that draws me to God in a way the joyful, boisterous Sunday morning doesn't.
I know that we are called to be in community. In the larger community with all our rough edges -- kids and older adults, and those of us in-between, families, singletons -- all of us together bearing with one another, supporting each other in messy love-filled relationships.
But when you belong to a big church, there are times when you just need some grace. The families with small kids, who were climbing a mountain just to get there this morning need for me to extend grace to them...
But I need some grace, too. Some room to breathe. A space to join in others in worship without having to navigate packed hallways and parking lots.
I find I am in the midst of a deep yearning to be near to God in a quiet place; to be led in worship, given words I can't seem to find on my own, in space and time set apart for the seeking of God.
My heart longs for Vespers.