Went to our church's Thursday night sermon dry run last night, because it was 6 PM and I asked God what I should do. Going to the sermon dry run came to mind. I had never done it, I felt like being in a church. I just wanted to be in an area with a bunch of Christians. I know God is everywhere, but doesn't he seem a little more present some places than others? Ocean beaches, mountains, churches. Maybe all the energy of the Holy Spirit in people make God more present in a church (note - there is NO theology I know of that backs up that statement.)
Anyway, sometimes I just want to step into a church.
At college I did that sometimes, go into the side chapel, sit quietly in a pew and talk to God. The chapel was right in the heart of campus, next to the library and the student union, on the path to the engineering quad. I can remember the swoosh of the immensely heavy wooden door opening, the cool and dry air, the absence of sound. I could picture all the students that had been praying there for hundreds of years. It was gorgeous, a Gothic Cathedral. Sometimes there was organ music, sometimes a tour of the chapel.
In Texas, church was very near our home. I would stop in randomly. Churches were unlocked in the 1970's.
At Moffitt Cancer Center in Tampa, I would go into the chapel right after Mike was called in for each radiation treatment 17 years ago. He had lymphoma. I would sit down, and start to cry. Cry for a few minutes, then I was fine. No particular words. Just cry. Then I would get up, go get settled to wait out his two hour treatment reading a book. I would be fine. It was a nice enough chapel, with wood altar, stained glass. And it had several boxes of tissues on the seats, so I knew others had been there doing the same thing.
So yesterday I had the feeling I needed to be in a church. You ask God what should you do at a given moment, and He tells you - go to church. Hmmm. We joined a new church (it meets in an ex-movie theater, the seats are very comfortable) but this was since my cancer diagnosis so I haven't been to many services since chemo - avoiding germs. I had been thinking their Thursday dry run sermon would be few people, low germ probability. It's not a service really. I walk into the church, twenty people there. I sit down. Happy to be there. Feel comfortable. Smiling. After a few minutes the pastor asks us to bow our heads to pray, I do, and I start to cry. HA! GOT ME! The permission I needed. Safety. I don't want to do Chemo #6 I said. Pause. But I will do anything to be healed.
I am doing Chemo #6 with full commitment.
And, better news follows, dear S can come down again and keep Mike, me and the house from coming unglued. So many have stepped up for this last couple chemos. It takes a community to heal, I have found. It takes a community to love and grow in Christ, I see this too.
I bet you all are getting tired of this. Yes, me too.
What was the sermon about, you might ask? God has prepared the most awesome table for a community dinner that you could ever imagine. He invites us all to join in. We are all invited to join in that community dinner right now. Right as we are. DO NOT WAIT UNTIL YOU ARE PERFECT. On your own, you will never be perfect. Accepting that we are forgiven by Christ, God asks we come now. It is not about us, it is about all of us.
AND a side note in the sermon - if we care too much about how we appear to others (our image and all the surroundings) we cannot fully be caring about others, as fully as God wants us to love others. It's not about us.
The church is a community of people. God has been constant in His love and devotion to me throughout the past few days, and always. Our emotions go up and down and sideways. He is the same, yesterday, today and forever.
Mike came home from his business trip last night. It feels so much better just having him here.
Today is a beautiful day.
