Easter 2016 meant going home.
I sat in my pew today at Rix Mills Presbyterian Church. I sat by my mother and father and sister, just as I did as a child. My girls took part in the Sunrise Service. I said "debtors" instead of "trespasses" and didn't have to think hard about the next line.
It's home. It really is. Walking into church, I see my grandmother at every turn. I see faces of family-and neighbors so close that we all feel like family.
But I also see my wedding. And I see memories that I can't erase-that I don't want to erase. But I don't want to be awash in them either.
It's hard.
Finding my seat at the Methodist church has not been easy either. Finding our place to sit, figuring out how to sing (use the words on the screen, not the hymn books), even figuring out which service suits us best-it's the earlier one-all of that has been a bit uncomfortable, like trying on clothes that are pretty but don't exactly fit like yoga pants.
I know in my heart that God doesn't care which church I attend.
This Lenten season I have focused myself on Jesus' words. "Oh God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" I know, I have been taught the lesson many times that Jesus was quoting the psalm, that the psalm ends in victory for Jesus, and that ultimately he was proclaiming victory on the cross.
But for me, this year, it was just about the first part. About feeling abandoned. For me this year, that was how I approached Jesus. Alone and abandoned. I don't pretend to know how human Jesus was. The Gospels each paint a different picture for a reason. But for me this year, I needed a human Jesus. Hanging from a cross, in such pain because of nothing that he did, but in pain nonetheless.
Easter, of course, is about life. Is about new beginnings. I have had a weekend full of pivots, full of seeing my life as it's moving forward and away from such overwhelming grief. I have seen the cusp of new chapters to be written. I am grateful. I am scared. I am completely and totally unsure of everything, and yet somehow sure that that is as it should be.
well expressed. I don't have many words but I do want to express that I hear your journey, hard but glorious and isn't that why Jesus came... so He can identify with us or we with Him. He sees your pain and cares. Hugs/love/and hope! God be with you.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Judith. These words mean a lot.
DeleteIf it comforts you at all, we struggle with finding our spot in the same church we've been attending for four years now. We're also early service people, but we struggle mightily getting there and have been traveling so much lately.
ReplyDeleteYou're not alone, friend.
Thank you, Jenna. It does provide me a sense of relief knowing that I'm not the only one. Sometimes I look around and feel so much like I'm the only one without any idea what I'm doing.
Delete