You know those days where you feel like if you hear one more worship song you may SCREAM?
Well that’s been my life for about the past 6 months. I avoid the songs as all costs. I try to steer clear of the Bible because I know my knee-jerk reaction is to judge it and hate it and get angry with it and the people talking about in.
If I have to listen to one more sermon by a straight white Christian male I may go bang my head against a wall.
And so, instead of these fundamental Christian basics that I’m supposed to be practicing, yet in reality am actively avoiding, I am practicing silence.
It seems if I do any of the old things, I feel like I’m just digging a deeper hole for myself. So as much as my 20 years of training to read the Bible, pray and worship and listen to sermons is calling me EVERYDAY to sink back into where I used to be, I’m learning to shake my head and sit with this discomfort of feeling guilty.
I have to say no to these things, because they put me right back into the system and ways and modes of thinking as before.
So I sit with the discomfort and instead seek out the God that is supposedly all around me and bigger than He or She.
I sit in silence and focus my thoughts, quiet my mind, and wait to sense feel picture something…
Today it’s the Founder’s Garden. There’s a fountain I can hear really quietly. The sun. The grass that was the prettiest green the last time I was here is now dried and dead.
I laughed out loud when I saw it because I feel like it represents my journey so well. I sat on this bench in August and cried and pleaded internally for someone to NOTICE and guide me because none of it made sense anymore. I was holding on and simultaneously learning I had to let go.
There’s not really an option to going back to the way things were, to what I know so well.
So now, here I am. I haven’t been back in a month, maybe two, and the grass is dead kind of like my old spirituality.
Is that terrifying? HELL YES! But is it good? Hell yes.
I’m learning that it’s ok to feel the things and lean into the changes and the discomfort of those changes. The feelings and thoughts and despair and seasons of change aren’t permanent. They are just seasons.
So just like the dead grass represents my old religious spirituality, I hope that when I come back maybe new spurts of green will be popping up.
Maybe, just maybe, spring and newness and something better is on its way.
But right now, it’s still winter. Yet, I am here, on a bench, sitting right smack dab in the middle of it, soaking up the sun.