Streams of Comfort

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord
Echoes in the dusty hallways of my youth.
The 9am bible study I hated waking up for.
The verses I could never memorize
Would suddenly pop up with clarity.
In the worse times
And the best.
When learning about Jonah,
All I could remember was the rebellion
That defiant spirit.
Foolishly my childish heart wanted the same
I guess I missed the part about the belly of the whale.
We are the church, a community
My pastor would always preach.
Yet there was a part of me that never believed it.
My selective memory chose to remember the gossips, the hypocrites, the lies
That echoed in those hallways too.
Sitting in those pews,
Filled with confusion and heartache
I turned to Jesus and thought I could follow Him alone.
Forgetting that even Jesus had his disciples.
Forgetting that we need each other despite the pain we cause one another.
So in my fugue, I ran away.
Determined to be alone
Until I came across others who ran too.
Hypocrisy seared my tongue as we became a community of fake refugees.
Consumed with the idea that together on the outside we were being saved.
That lasted only a moment.
And then the fighting began.
The hurt blossomed again.
And in our makeshift rebellion
We found ourselves in the belly of a problem much larger than ourselves.
My human heart broke when I uttered the bitter words,
I really don’t like church.
I tried so hard to be something that I wasn’t
When all Jesus and his church wanted was the real me.
I built walls to keep them out thinking that would keep out the pain too.
And I then heard the words,
‘There’s no wall you could build
Strong enough to keep me away
‘Not the One who’s already there
Seeing you, knowing you before you even were.’
So like the prodigal I eventually returned home.
Though it did not feel that way for a long time still.
And slowly slowly people loved me without me begging them.
I felt it in the way they hugged me for no reason other than they were thankful for my presence.
In the ways we built one another up not down more naturally than breathing.
The dust cleared from the hallways
And my mind.
Though speaking is hard sometimes,
I don’t fear like I used to.
I realized I don’t want what I want.
And I don’t hate church like I thought I did.

Alice R. 10/03/24