I went to church tonight with a friend. (No, I haven't completely given myself over to papal heathenism... I waited until Sunday night to go to church lol)
It was the kind of church that would shock the sensibilities of my good, solid, conservative friends. You know... driving bass, an awesome drummer, praise singers, a 7/11 song and speakers so loud you can't hear yourself sing along... Makeup. Spaghetti straps. No straps at all. Jewelry. Shorts and flip-flops. Hands lifted high. Claiming things in the name of Jesus and declaring truth all over us. People swaying and clapping.
It was... different.
It was also good.
Nobody there looked at you askance for keeping your arms firmly wrapped around your midsection, or for raising your hands high and sobbing the name of Jesus over and over again.
No one there cared what you were wearing or how much of it.
They just came together to worship God in the best way they knew how, because they love Jesus. Do you know how refreshing that is?
I still left empty-- I wasn't magically filled by God's presence, as I had been secretly hoping in a way. However, I have the peaceful assurance that my questions will receive answers... in due time. God's not offended by my questions, my anger, my issues that I'm trying to work through...
...and I really want this thing with God to work. But I can't make it work. Let me re-phrase that, with italics for emphasis.
But I can't make it work.
I can't.
I've been trying for so long, because I really, really want this God thing to work, and now... and now?
Now I'm burnt out on religion. I'm burnt out on God, it seems.
I noticed that tonight.
I'm just a charred, blackened piece of toast. Burnt out. A dark light bulb. A shorted circuit.
So... if God is really who all these people say he is, if he's really like that... then I need to chill out and let him make it work. He's the god, not me, right? He's the powerful one. He's the all-knowing one. He's the one that is offering me salvation. He'll make it work, not me.
And I'm grateful for that. Because I am so. tired. of trying to make it work.
It was the kind of church that would shock the sensibilities of my good, solid, conservative friends. You know... driving bass, an awesome drummer, praise singers, a 7/11 song and speakers so loud you can't hear yourself sing along... Makeup. Spaghetti straps. No straps at all. Jewelry. Shorts and flip-flops. Hands lifted high. Claiming things in the name of Jesus and declaring truth all over us. People swaying and clapping.
It was... different.
It was also good.
Nobody there looked at you askance for keeping your arms firmly wrapped around your midsection, or for raising your hands high and sobbing the name of Jesus over and over again.
No one there cared what you were wearing or how much of it.
They just came together to worship God in the best way they knew how, because they love Jesus. Do you know how refreshing that is?
I still left empty-- I wasn't magically filled by God's presence, as I had been secretly hoping in a way. However, I have the peaceful assurance that my questions will receive answers... in due time. God's not offended by my questions, my anger, my issues that I'm trying to work through...
...and I really want this thing with God to work. But I can't make it work. Let me re-phrase that, with italics for emphasis.
But I can't make it work.
I can't.
I've been trying for so long, because I really, really want this God thing to work, and now... and now?
Now I'm burnt out on religion. I'm burnt out on God, it seems.
I noticed that tonight.
I'm just a charred, blackened piece of toast. Burnt out. A dark light bulb. A shorted circuit.
So... if God is really who all these people say he is, if he's really like that... then I need to chill out and let him make it work. He's the god, not me, right? He's the powerful one. He's the all-knowing one. He's the one that is offering me salvation. He'll make it work, not me.
And I'm grateful for that. Because I am so. tired. of trying to make it work.
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