Sometimes, I just write to write. Sometimes, I have no idea what I'll write about. But I've found when I feel like I should write, nothing else will work, until I write. And it's somewhat of a blessing, to be able to write. I've had days, months, when I couldn't write. So, to be desiring to write, means I should write.
I couldn't tell you what the sermon was about today. I was distracted. I wanted to listen. But I was distracted. Caught up in my own world. Trying desperately to turn my heart to God, only to find myself focused on that and a million other things, like the fact that I had chocolate caught in my pantyhose on the back of my calf and had no idea how it got there, like the fact that I had to pee every 20 minutes this morning, like the fact that my cousin was on her way to go on a blind date, which was in fact a farce, and she was meeting me. And... so... I couldn't tell you what the sermon was about.
Sunday is my favorite day of the week. Honestly. I think people my age think I'm totally cracked when I say that. I love going to church. I love the fellowship. I love the fact that when I sing, the whole world fades away and my heart is totally God's. I love the fact that when I sing and the swell of the piano and strings reverberates in my ears, I'm transported to a place where only God and I exist. Does that mean I still met God today? If I have no idea what the sermon was about, but I still gave God glory through the music?
This weekend has been one of quieting my heart and reflecting- of coming to peace. It's still elusive, if you were wondering. But I feel as though I've recharged- somewhat. Things are still up in the air. There's still plenty I don't understand. I'm still restless. I still have a plethora of unanswered questions. I still feel ill-prepared for the week ahead. Disconcerted. But attempting to trust. Feebly.
I'm glad God is a God of second chances... of third and fourth and a million second chances. I'm glad that if he gets disappointed or frustrated by my lack of faith, by my lack of trust, by my lack of anything but mistrust and doubt, he still is a God of second chances. I'm glad he continues to offer grace and mercy when I'm discouraged for no tangible reason. I'm glad he continues to offer hope when I struggle to understand. I'm glad he is love when I'm not sure how to love myself, others or even him. I'm glad.
I couldn't tell you what the sermon was about today. I was distracted. I wanted to listen. But I was distracted. Caught up in my own world. Trying desperately to turn my heart to God, only to find myself focused on that and a million other things, like the fact that I had chocolate caught in my pantyhose on the back of my calf and had no idea how it got there, like the fact that I had to pee every 20 minutes this morning, like the fact that my cousin was on her way to go on a blind date, which was in fact a farce, and she was meeting me. And... so... I couldn't tell you what the sermon was about.
Sunday is my favorite day of the week. Honestly. I think people my age think I'm totally cracked when I say that. I love going to church. I love the fellowship. I love the fact that when I sing, the whole world fades away and my heart is totally God's. I love the fact that when I sing and the swell of the piano and strings reverberates in my ears, I'm transported to a place where only God and I exist. Does that mean I still met God today? If I have no idea what the sermon was about, but I still gave God glory through the music?
This weekend has been one of quieting my heart and reflecting- of coming to peace. It's still elusive, if you were wondering. But I feel as though I've recharged- somewhat. Things are still up in the air. There's still plenty I don't understand. I'm still restless. I still have a plethora of unanswered questions. I still feel ill-prepared for the week ahead. Disconcerted. But attempting to trust. Feebly.
I'm glad God is a God of second chances... of third and fourth and a million second chances. I'm glad that if he gets disappointed or frustrated by my lack of faith, by my lack of trust, by my lack of anything but mistrust and doubt, he still is a God of second chances. I'm glad he continues to offer grace and mercy when I'm discouraged for no tangible reason. I'm glad he continues to offer hope when I struggle to understand. I'm glad he is love when I'm not sure how to love myself, others or even him. I'm glad.
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