This past Sunday was one of the most incredible days that I’ve had since moving to Chicago. I’m not even talking about the Steelers’ win- though that definitely added to the awesomeness of the day. I had the day off (though I was scheduled to work) and was able to go to Greenhouse. I love going to church. It’s something that just feels right. However, for the past several months (possibly years) I just haven’t felt a deep connection with God. Sure, there were those highs that I’d get during a “good” church service… but that’s all it is… a high. A high is not sustainable. A high leaves you with a deeper sense of dissatisfaction than before. That’s where I was. Dissatisfied. I constantly looked to my past (though I always said that I’d stop and just keep looking forward) as what it was to be in a deep relationship with God. I’d remember how I was and what I did- and punish myself for not being like that now.
What is the line between Holy reverence and fear? For me, that line is communion. I’ve heard countless times at church that if you aren’t completely repentant, and if you have any sin in your life, that if you take communion, you could get sick and God can curse you. It may not be meant that way- but in the back of my mind, that’s how I’ve taken it. I had communion in Chicago once. I just didn’t feel like I was being the Christian that I needed to be, so I was actually afraid to take communion. I had lots of different ways to avoid it. It’s actually fairly easy to at Greenhouse since it’s a serve yourself kind of thing. So that was working out well for me. Since my surgery, I’ve been blessed by being able to go to church 4 times in a row. During this time, God’s been working in me- most of the ways I can’t even describe, I just “get it”. I’m allowing myself to worship, to talk to God, and actually listen for His response. I’m not sure what came over me, but I decided to go for it. I took communion. I don’t think grape juice has ever tasted so good. It was this moment… that I told God I had His back, and He said He had mine. It was a moment that felt like friends getting together for coffee. It was a moment that felt like a funeral service and a marriage in one. It was spiritual and tangible.
Towards the end of service, I had this overwhelming sense of life. I felt alive for the first time in oh so long. I have a desire to be among the living- to do things with others, to engage in relationships, to be vulnerable even- vulnerability seems to make life be more intense and has great rewards. I have the desire to dance. I’ve always wanted to dance. Dancing is not usually one of the activities that come to mind when you think of someone who was over 300 pounds (guess I’m taking this vulnerability thing seriously) . I keep forgetting that I have lost a ton of weight and am continuing to drop (I can fit into an XL t-shirt which I haven’t done since HS). This feeling of wanting to dance comes over me and I squelch it pretty quickly. Thinking about it now makes me a little concerned. How many times can I shove this thing down before it gives and no longer pops up? I don’t want to find out. I’m not talking ballet (at least I really hope I’m not anyway)- it’s just that when I hear worship music, I want to move to it. I want to let all of me worship the Lord. I try to tell myself that God wouldn’t urge me to do it if it would turn out really badly for me… but there’s pride and fear involved in it. Even right now I’m justifying it- “it’s one thing for someone who is a bad singer to sing along with everyone during worship, it’s another for a fat chick who can’t dance to dance during worship.” Will my desire for life and dancing outweigh my pride and fear? I hope so, it may take awhile, it may be immediate, but I’m willing to keep putting myself in situations to find out.