Sunday Morning Waiting
I have been writing about my faith journey for the past few weeks. While recollection is good and needed, I want to take a moment and share the spiritual moments I find myself in right now.
Right now, I do not go to church.
And I am slowly learning, despite everything I may have heard, that right now that is okay.
If you have read about my past in the church, you will understand that this is not a natural choice for me; trust me, I am much more comfortable and at ease with the routine of church attendance and participation. Sunday morning rituals are strangely comforting to me and not going has been perhaps one of the more difficult seasons of life for me.
You see, for the last few months, I have been hearing the Lord say, “just wait”. No rushing, no jumping in just because its what we do, no committing to a congregation because going to church “is the right thing to do”. Just waiting, Sunday morning waiting.
Throughout the past few months, I could have really used a church - a community of faith to lean into throughout some of the hardest months of my life. But instead, you see, I have had to do something harder - I have had to not rely on easy answers and well-rehearsed lines, but rather fully on the grace of God and the pressing in of my own volition.
I fully believe that God has something at the end of all this Sunday morning waiting. I choose to believe that even though I cannot see God’s hand working right now does not mean his hands are idle. I am realizing that my existential crisis is not the universe crumbling, just my perception of it. The Lord is still faithful, even if its not to my version of the story. In this time of uncertainty, the key is just finding joy in the right here. This moment. This time. Not some future hope or dream or version of myself that is more holy, more established, more rooted, more churched. It seems to me that the greatest sense of the divine can be found it the uttermost chaos and uncertainty, and that is where I find myself now.
So here and now, I practice gratitude for what I have been given. Here and now, I am choosing to believe that what seems like coincidence is God’s orchestrating hand. I am learning to unlearn, to wait, and to see God in everything. The joy set before me right now is to breathe deeper and see wider.
As one of my favorite songwriters says, “How rare and beautiful it is to even exist”.
Madeline L’Engle says:
And that is how I get through the Sunday morning waiting. And even more so, I thrive.