Hey, world’s gone crazy – so here’s a burnt spaghetti blog to help add to that crazy. I do what I can, you know?
Weirdly, I miss you.
Don’t get so offended. I’m an introvert who doesn’t like to hug and suddenly, all I wanna do is share breathing space with strangers. Maybe hold a few hands in prayer. Hug the Walmart cashier. I don’t know – it’s getting strange in this little barn.
So I miss you, and we can’t go get coffee, but I still have this stuff on my heart to share with you. So I brought it here.
Last weekend I did get to sneak into church with the Reverend, and honestly it was such a sweetness and a sadness all at once.
Hope is a big church. Growing up in Springfield, we always referred to it as the mega church in town. But last Sunday it was empty. And this weekend it will be even emptier.
It was a shock to the system, more than anything. Church is where we live and breathe and we’ll probably die there too… and suddenly it’s just gone.
But as we worshiped with only the other staff and their families, while I was missing all you strangers, my heart was still so ministered to by our worship team and by our Heavenly Father.
It’s scary stuff if you stop and think too hard about it – so I try my best not to. But in the moment, we were singing – I just felt suddenly a little too raw. That empty room, how quickly things had turned in seven days – eats me up with its unknown.
And if we were at coffee, you at this point would probably say, “Yes. I’ve felt some degree of this as well.”
Or you’re a sociopath and I’d keep talking at you anyway.
In coffee dates I’ve found there are two trends, a fork in the road if you will. We would either wallow together in that feeling of fear until it became an anger we could grip onto together and aim at someone or something – or – we could talk about hope.
That second one is way harder and weirder, especially the deeper you get into church culture because you’re supposed to KNOW things, and feel CONFIDENT and have the RIGHT answers. So we don’t come clean with ourselves about doubts and fear and whether or not we actually have a hold of hope – we just fake it. We fake it in our heads and then we fake it on our coffee dates.
And that’s how the Enemy keeps you so alone and afraid.
Thinking… I must be the only one who doesn’t feel confident, who doesn’t know the right answer, who isn’t believing this churchy stuff at the moment no matter how hard I try. And then if my small group members realize this, if I say something stupid, if I come across as negative? Well, there’s a great chance the person I’m having coffee with will just hit me with a Bible verse and send me home feeling even more shameful and alone than we I bought this overpriced latte.
So yeah… everything is good, and have you seen this hilarious meme?
But today, on this coffee date, I am feeling just afraid enough to tell you the truth.
I’m freaking out.
And I will ninja kick the first church lady who sends me Philippians 4:13 because that’s not how to love me right now, okay, Karen?!
Here’s all I got at the moment, besides three rolls of toilet paper:
I just felt called to confess last Sunday, and that’s all I’ve heard this week anytime I pray or read or pause.
In that moment of fear, in that empty auditorium, I just felt God pull my heart into confession: Who do you say I am?
Not the kind of confession that you’re thinking involving sins and Hail Mary – I’m saying confessing with our mouths who our God is.
I don’t know everything about Him, and I won’t know.
But I know Him.
He has held me, we have done hard things before, and I have known the character of God. And I just felt strangely pulled to confess those things with my voice. Not just in my head, but out loud.
You are who you say you are.
You do what you say you’ll do.
I know You.
And that’s it. That’s all I have for comfort or encouragement, and I would tell you that too, were we sitting in Starbucks this afternoon. And then I would ask you – remind me of what He’s done. If we’ve walked life at all together, tell me again of His kindness to us.
That’s one thing I’m excited for about Heaven, is just sitting around in Glory weeping with joy over everything Jesus has ever done. Just story after story of his goodness, his kindness, just a piecing together proof upon proof of his character.
I wish we could have coffee together.
I would hug you – no lie.
But until then – and I’m very serious – remind me of the kindness of Jesus. What has he done for you? When did we see him? What do we know?
Confess with me, and take comfort in that confession.