Dear Lord

Dear God,

I went to Your House today. Or one of Your Houses anyway. It was a quiet one this time; no rock bands or preppy teenagers howling. First, I marvelled the architecture - full length windows along both sides of the elevated hall, and a high pointed ceiling certainly did feel holy. Then I noticed how this pastor, too, was an exceptional speaker. He had one of those deep, reassuring voices and the stature of a leader. But I know the tricks of a talented speaker, Lord. I am looking for truth, not persuasion.

Then there was music. Always, there is music - sweet, golden music that fills you up and embraces you, and you could almost mistake it for the Holy Spirit. And as usual, the song came to me almost instantly, almost naturally. I've always wondered, Lord - is that a sign, or are hymns just really easy to sing?

I watched the rest lift their open palms into the air - I was taught always to pray with my hands clasped - but kept mine firmly tucked between my knees. I still use the children's prayer, you see - the four-lined, rhyming thing that speaks only of the barest need to feel safe. Are the words of a prayer supposed to come to me naturally? Am I supposed to want to lift my hands? I felt ashamed, sitting there staring, while others pressed their closed eyes forward in euphoria and earnestness.

Truth be told, Lord, I felt like a novice, thrown into an advanced class. Or like an outsider, stumbling upon a coded meeting. The words, words, words they spoke were about praise and Your Grace. But I didn't understand them. I need to learn, Lord. I need first to be shown, so I can give my whole hearted praise. Am I asking for too much?


Help me, God, help me learn the evidence, because I can't seem to let myself.

Love,

Or, In the name of Christ, as the pastor said,
Charm