It’s Saturday before church, and I’m sitting in Starbucks feeling pretty exhausted, but content.
Last night, I went to Phoenix with some friends. We went to a concert that was positively amazing. It was for a Christian band called Page CXVI that does hymns in a unique, spectacular way. They also write their own original songs under a different band name (but with the same members – The Autumn Film), and they did this crazy awesome song that SO connected with me.
And I nearly had a cry-fest with poor Pastor Mike after hearing it (Don’t tell him, it’s a secret… I’m a pretty good faker and there’s a decent chance I hid my inner turmoil). Because I felt an awful lot like just sinking down to the bottom of the sea.
I promise I’m not suicidal.
Okay, it’s worse than ennui. And it’s not related to boredom so much as… ?
Sometimes, I just want to exist.
Poor Mike was driving me from the concert to meet up with our friends, and I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t be fun. All I really could do was just be there. But I didn’t have a cry fest, and Mike was awesome and just let me be. He replayed the song for me while we drove, and I had this nice time thinking about how someone else in the world has felt the melancholy things I’ve been feeling, and was able to put them into gorgeous, touching art.
After the hanging out, several of us went to the Johnson’s house and slept there. And it was amazing as always… even if there wasn’t much time to be had with my second family.
There’s something magical about being at home.
I know it’s not my home, but it is. I slept really well for the few short hours we had before getting up. I went for a run. I sat on the bench on the Johnson’s back porch smelling all bad from the run, and it was amazing. I didn’t even wake roommate Amy up when I was supposed to because I was in an “I’m just existing” bubble that was too brilliant and oh-so fragile… and only one or two people in the whole world are allowed into that bubble.
But I had a lunch to get to, and quite the distance to drive, so I got Amy up and bursted the bubble.
And here we are.
I’m exhausted, and could probably sleep for a long bit.
But it’s a good weekend.
And oddly enough, I’m looking forward to my little Crossing church ending. Tomorrow is our last service, and I’m bitterly sweet about it. I actually feel like it’ll be a load off… as much as I’ve loved every moment of the past 6 years.
It’s barely the a.m. now on Monday morning, and I thought I’d add one last little bit about the weekend.
The crossing ended.
And I was reminded of the things I’ve learned in the last six years.
And the thing I always come back to is how the Crossing has taught me what unmerited grace is. Just last week, I was praying to God, and I said something like, “I can’t fight anymore, Abba.”
And it hit me in this ridiculous fashion that the prayer wasn’t supposed to stop there. “Fight for me,” is the second half that I was missing. I’ve been trying so hard to be everything to everyone that I haven’t let God do the work. And while Paul may say that he tries to be all things to all people so that by all means he might save some… the most difficult part of believing for me is in not trying to earn it. It’s letting God do to the fighting for me. 🙂
So if anyone asks me to get coffee this month, and I say no, I hope they won’t take it personally… I love all of my coffee dates. 🙂
But I’m going to do a weird thing, and let God work without me being a part of it.
I feel like most of the sermons I’ve listened to in my life have been about how we should all get up and serve more, but I’m going to suggest that maybe the problem isn’t that all of us should serve more, but that all of us should be more committed to God. Because we can serve in a completely Godless way.
And seeking God in rest is valid.