Communion and camel toe.
I stumbled on this blog post from last year, now seems like a good time to share these words:
Every spring season brings a deep gratitude for the simple things. Bright colors, fresh little baby-green leaves, the way the rain darkens the soil and highlights the pale green sprouts. It's also a painful grief trigger. Spring is a reminder of all the "lasts" Ricky and I had together.
The kids and I attended communion yesterday and it might have actually been the worst. Our church does a unique form of communion. We take a literal approach to how Jesus describes communion in the Bible. We sing songs, we remember, it's a time of reflection and lament for our sin, to call to mind what Jesus did for us. These services just before Easter are meaningful. We wash each others feet, it's a time for people and families to serve each other. Right away I feel different, alone, single mom with 4 children. Half of my kids are into it. The other half thinks it's the worst. The songs are interrupted with:
"How much longer is this gonna be?"
"This is so dumb."
"Do we get to eat yet?"
They are spiritual little gems. We go into another room to wash feet. I slowly dipped my toe into the water (thank God nobody used it before me) one of them looks down and comments:
"Woh, camel toe"
"What?" (confused, trying to manage the kid kerfuffle)
"You have a camel toe." (He's looking at my toes, I can't even, does he even know?)
I laughed on the inside but I couldn't shake the heaviness. I was alone. It feels unfair. A small group of friends huddle up, we hold hands to pray. My mind wonders, it's really a slurry of fowl language. I'm pretty frustrated at my lot in life. I try to stay focused on the One who saved me. The One who calls me by name, the One who died for me and has promised eternity with Him. But I'm so sad again, and frustrated, I can't shake the rock sitting on my chest. We move to take the bread and cup. Maybe this would be going better if my church served actual wine. Welch's tries to bring me back but it's a fight. Two of the children "cheers" grape juice, I'm done, so we leave. So much for sacred and solemn. I'm overwhelmed, sad, and super thankful that this world is not the end.
After settling 4 more fights, 13 bedtime stories, a few songs and prayers, and some clarity on the meaning of camel toe, the kids were tucked in. I went out on my front porch, the moon was full with a clear sky. I prayed, and Jesus showed up. It's actually the best when that happens. He spoke clearly, "Call to mind the times I've have shown up before." Trust. It feels like I'm looking down over the edge of the cliff all over again, God I know you showed up before but will you do it again? This pain feels too great.
"In my anguish I called to the Lord and he answered by setting me free. The Lord is with me, I will not be afraid. What can man do to me? The Lord is with me, I will not be afraid. what can man do to me; He is my helper. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man."-Ps. 118:6-9
When I call to mind His goodness, the heaviness doesn't go away but I remembered who was with me in the middle of it. He reminded me, the deeper sorrow carved into your being the more joy you can contain.
April of 2020, I don't feel the heaviness like last year, maybe that's why it's easier to share this with you. Weeping may last for some nights but joy does come. I'll leave you with this magical snippet from Brennan Manning.
"Most of the descriptions of the victorious life do not match the reality of my own. Hyperbole, bloated rhetoric, and grandiose testimonies create the impression that once Jesus is acknowledged as Lord, the Christian life becomes a picnic on a green lawn, marriage blossoms into connubial bliss, physical health flourishes, acne disappears and sinking careers suddenly sore. The victorious life is proclaimed to mean that everybody is a winner. An attractive twenty-year-old accepts Jesus and becomes Miss America; a floundering lawyer conquers alcoholism and whips F. Lee Bailey in court. Miracles occur, conversions abound, church attendance skyrockets, ruptured relationships get healed, and shy people become gregarious. Idyllic descriptions of victory in Jesus are more colored by cultural and personal expectations than by Christ and the ragamuffin gospel.
The New Testament depicts another picture of the victorious life: Jesus on Calvary. The biblical image of the victorious life reads more like a victorious limp. Jesus was victorious not because he never flinched, talked back, or questioned; but having flinched, talked back and questioned, He remained faithful.
What makes authentic disciples is not visions, ecstasies, biblical mastery of chapter and verse, or spectacular success in ministry, but a capacity for faithfulness."
On this Good Friday where the whole world is out of sorts and the unknown is looming, may we be found faithful.
