the Church as a Pitstop

“… A fundamental aspect of [Jesus’] teaching was that you don’t need to go to the temple or church — because he/she won’t hear you — because where you are heard is in the most inner part. When you speak with intention, things move. You can move the world.” ~~~ The Great Shift, ~p. 95

My mother, for one, would roll her eyes at this and shake her head. Heave a pained sigh and wonder what’s wrong with people today.

While I would be the first to admit that there’s a plethora of things wrong with folks these days, I’m not sure that struggling with issues of faith in an attempt to be a better person is necessarily a bad thing. Yes, there have been and still are a LOT of things wrong with organized religion. People feed off of the institution’s ability to spin issues into a tight coil ready to blow up at the first breeze of dissent.

But is it a good reason not to go to church because one doesn’t feel “connected” with God? Sure! Is that an excuse for many? Absolutely.

But I bet it’s true for many more.

Some people connect by going on a hike to appreciate the harmony of a forest stream feeding trees and beetles and fish and rabbits and bears. Some connect by taking a Sunday drive and admiring the neighboring towns bustling with community involvement. Some connect by breathing and listening to their heart match the pulse of energy around them. Some connect by sitting in a pew, joining voices, and consciously embracing God and Heaven.

But my connection… um… all the above?


A little slide of life

Some days I feel like I have suction cups on my hands and feet, and can scamper up my shining, silver path without breaking a sweat. Other days I hit a curve that’s so steep and slick that before I know it, I’ve slid all the way to the bottom and have to join the rest of the kids waiting in line for their turn on the slide. And then there are the days when it’s all I can do to just hunker down and hang on for the ride while everything spins out of control.

Maybe church is the service station where my climbing gear is inspected. Where the loose suction cups are fitted back into place, and the worn equipment is replaced. I’m usually hungry, so I get a bite of bread and a quick drink, a moment of peace to plan my next steps, and then before I know it, I’m back in line, jockeying for the best position before that spiral starts spinning again.

Head up. Eyes forward.

Yes, the darn thing reaches higher than I can see.

But I won’t look down. I’ve come so far.

There are pitstops along the way — every Sunday, or once a month, or even just twice a year on the high Christian holidays.

Whenever I need an adjustment or a refueling, the Church is there for me.

How about you?

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