Power in the showing up

Without fail, it is a struggle to get here.

Somehow, Sunday is the only day we all want to sleep late. It is too hot, too cold, too rainy. The ice on the car is too thick, the socks are too scratchy and somehow we’re almost out of milk so we fight over who gets to have cereal. Again. Our classes are boring, we have nothing to wear and wait… please go find your other shoe.

And so, it is no small victory that we settle into the back row and catch our breath. I read just this morning that in hard times, we fall back on old habits… the ones that don’t require thinking. Perhaps this is a vestige of my little girl faith that loved those metallic attendance stars, standing proud in an unbroken line. It is Sunday. We go to church.

And if our brave new world has taught me anything, it’s that there is power in the showing up. No, the church is not a building. Yes, God is still at work from six feet and a computer screen away. But being here, together, it’s just different.

Grief feels like all of my insides have been scraped raw. I cover them up and try to let them heal a bit, but then they start itching and I dare to look and they are still. so. raw.

I want a timeline. A flow chart. Some sort of steady progression. Not this stupid anger that flares up and flashes hot again and again.

But here we are. Again. I hum because I cannot bring myself to sing the words today.

While I wait, I will worship

Lord, I’ll worship Your name.

While I wait, I will trust You

Lord, I’ll trust You all the same.

I close my eyes because I cannot lift my hands to say yes. Not even in faith. Not today.

But, friends, I hear you all around me, singing. Your voices rise in the messy melody that carries me today. That worships for me in the waiting. That trusts when I am just too tired. I know I will raise my voice again. I’m not “losing my faith,” just learning that though God never changes, my understanding and experiences of him most certainly can.

I have always loved Jesus. I have a tumultuous relationship with his people. But today? Today I know that I am home. Today I know in my bones that, even with my insides scraped raw, even with anger that flashes hot and burns behind my eyes, there is power here. Power in the showing up.