Some days it’s really hard to write.
Some days things just weigh on me.
Some days it’s physical pain. Some days worry and anxiety become squatters, taking up where they are most definitely not wanted.
And it’s these days when church is so important to me, when church becomes something more than a place I want to go, but a place I need to go.
Last Sunday the praise band sung the song “The Stand.” The song built slowly, and when it reached the climax, people all around me began to stand up. One at a time and then all together—this wave of people moved, were moved to stand and praise God. I told people later that it felt like the breath of God, that I felt this energy move through me and it caught me so off guard, it almost knocked me over.
This Sunday, not once but twice (because I go to both services), I knelt down following communion and prayed. It’s hard for me to kneel because of my back and I do not have the hip muscles really needed to hold me up. After a minute or so, my legs begin to shake, but I can’t stop kneeling.
And this Sunday, as I knelt, I felt this presence behind me and all around me. And I swear it felt like it did the Sunday I was confirmed. That Sunday three women stood behind me and put their hands on my back in support.
Today, no one was standing behind me, but I could feel hands. I could feel the presence of something, of many somethings, and I have no idea what it was, whether it be God or His angels, whether it be the healing that God is working on me in this church. But I felt enveloped in love.
And I heard this voice, this internal whisper in my soul that said, “You are not alone.” And as if that wasn’t enough, it was followed a moment later by “You have never been alone.”
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I have always believed in God, I have always known that He was there, but something has happened to me these past eight months and I can’t explain it. But God is suddenly so much bigger than I ever imagined. He is so much more real.
And He isn’t just standing beside me. He’s in front of me. He’s behind me. He’s all around me, all the time and yes, I’m more aware of Him at church than anywhere else.
I can’t explain any of it.
Macrina Widerkehr, author of A Tree Full of Angels, describes it as a yearning, and that “If you yearn for God, a sacred presence will begin to fill you. It will hover over you … upset your entire life with a haunting presence, a presence that is both terrible and beautiful.”
It’s a presence that is impossible to ignore and one that while overwhelming, is so necessary in my life right now.
I need God. I need Him more than ever.
And so I write.
And I go to church.
Because I need to.
