I could blog about what I saw today, but I don’t really need to do so. You all know what I saw today. It was upsetting and gross but it is what it is in this world in which we live…so I’m gonna write about something else.
The shift mentioned a couple posts ago is not so much me doing anything differently but rather a conscious acknowledgment of where I was already headed: explaining not so much the reasons why I joined the Church, but maybe to talk a bit about why I was looking in the first place and why I need it so desperately.
I had nowhere else to go.
So I’ve poured myself a tall, frothy glass of writing juice (Mighty Arrow from New Belgium if you were interested. Hoppy is happy!) and I’ll try to explain a bit more.
No atheists in foxholes, right? That’s what they say. But I know I was pretty close once upon a time. And let’s face it–we’re all in a foxhole most days, pushing ourselves up against the muddy sides, whispering “dearGoddearGoddearG0d” until whatever it is passes.
Nothing made any sense at all to me. Nada. Zip. Bupkis. My family didn’t make sense. My churches didn’t make sense. My “salvation” made less sense. I was paying a truck load of money (still am) to go to a good Evangelical college and have them help me have it make sense. They only seemed to make it worse. But what can you expect from people who don’t seem to understand that the God of Calvin and the God of Arminius are NOT the same.
After graduation and a job as a police reporter and then as a bureau reporter and my first dead-kid trial (the standard by which all court cases in general are measured in my head) and a couple honest-to-goodness disasters, there was absolutely NO way I could sit in a mega-church and not completely lose my mind. There was no way I could sing “Shine, Jesus, Shine” one more time without just giving up completely. (I am not saying this does not work for you. If it does, fantastic. For me, it gave me spiritual hives.)
Theologically, nothing I heard in Sunday matched up with anything I saw during the week. And it had been that way forever for me. I saw no victory in my own life, no joy, no peace, and most certainly no trust. My heart was as dry as those salt flats they use in all the car commercials.
I needed somewhere I could be. I needed a spiritual home for my heart. Forget my mind, it was fickle and flighty anyway. My soul needed rest.
(Oh, fine, about today…) I thought of this whole thing earlier, while I tried to wrap my soul around the grief that filled that courtroom. I am not so different. I am not so unique. We are all tired. We are all so sad and lonely most of the time. Most of us don’t believe a lot of the time and when we do, it’s more a stubborn refusal to “not believe” than it is a choice to believe.
to sit down.