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I haven’t spent much time with the Lord in my lifetime. We are mere acquaintances, He and I. My family attended a Methodist Church briefly when I was about four years old. I remember a vacation bible school stint when I was nine. Then some informal schooling from my grandma George when we visited her in Phoenix the Summer I was eleven. And my Nana dragged me with her to a few services when I was a teenager.
In my adult life, the only times I’ve entered a church was for a wedding, a funeral or a baby’s Christening.
Each time I sit down on the hard, cold wood of a church pew, I get a little freaked out at first. The organ music feels so ominous to me. And the visions of Christ painted into the ceiling, or the back wall of the altar, feel like they’re leaning into me. Judging.
But after I sit there for a while, after the room falls silent and the booming voice of the pastor rises up into the air, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. My eyes are often unblinking, fascinated, as I listen to the sermon. I nod at the pearls of wisdom. It’s so replenishing, in a way.
I went to a wedding this weekend. This wedding took place in a church. I love weddings because I believe in the sanctity of marriage. I love watching old and new get out on the dance floor together. I love watching a happy couple go naively into the unknown.
But I also love spending an hour with the Lord.
I love being reminded what truly matters in life.
Spirituality.
And love.
Could it really be that simple?
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
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3 comments:
Yes. It really is that simple.
Love,
dsqrd
holy crap. did someone steal your blog?? i feel the same way. what an interesting thing to read from YOU today.
Churches have a funny effect on me, too. They have the exact opposite effect on me, in fact. I grew up in churches (dad is a minister) and I love to walk into a church sanctuary--it is the perfect word for the peaceful, hushed feeling that comes over me in one. But the longer I sit there my peace leaks out into that hard wooden pew and is replaced by...less than peaceful feelings.
I couldn't agree with the sentiment more, but these days I find more spirituality in the profiles of my daughters than I do in an image of JC.
Wow--that sounds so bitter!!
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I haven’t spent much time with the Lord in my lifetime. We are mere acquaintances, He and I. My family attended a Methodist Church briefly when I was about four years old. I remember a vacation bible school stint when I was nine. Then some informal schooling from my grandma George when we visited her in Phoenix the Summer I was eleven. And my Nana dragged me with her to a few services when I was a teenager.
In my adult life, the only times I’ve entered a church was for a wedding, a funeral or a baby’s Christening.
Each time I sit down on the hard, cold wood of a church pew, I get a little freaked out at first. The organ music feels so ominous to me. And the visions of Christ painted into the ceiling, or the back wall of the altar, feel like they’re leaning into me. Judging.
But after I sit there for a while, after the room falls silent and the booming voice of the pastor rises up into the air, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. My eyes are often unblinking, fascinated, as I listen to the sermon. I nod at the pearls of wisdom. It’s so replenishing, in a way.
I went to a wedding this weekend. This wedding took place in a church. I love weddings because I believe in the sanctity of marriage. I love watching old and new get out on the dance floor together. I love watching a happy couple go naively into the unknown.
But I also love spending an hour with the Lord.
I love being reminded what truly matters in life.
Spirituality.
And love.
Could it really be that simple?
The wedding
In my adult life, the only times I’ve entered a church was for a wedding, a funeral or a baby’s Christening.
Each time I sit down on the hard, cold wood of a church pew, I get a little freaked out at first. The organ music feels so ominous to me. And the visions of Christ painted into the ceiling, or the back wall of the altar, feel like they’re leaning into me. Judging.
But after I sit there for a while, after the room falls silent and the booming voice of the pastor rises up into the air, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. My eyes are often unblinking, fascinated, as I listen to the sermon. I nod at the pearls of wisdom. It’s so replenishing, in a way.
I went to a wedding this weekend. This wedding took place in a church. I love weddings because I believe in the sanctity of marriage. I love watching old and new get out on the dance floor together. I love watching a happy couple go naively into the unknown.
But I also love spending an hour with the Lord.
I love being reminded what truly matters in life.
Spirituality.
And love.
Could it really be that simple?