Where I live the weather is hot from the end of May until the end of September, but even once the calendar flips forward to October, the temperatures still feel far too warm for autumn. This Indian summer paints the days well into the middle of the month and then slowly cools by All Saints' Day to something that begs us to wear a longer sleeve and trade shorts for jeans.
It was in this less hot, but still too warm weather that my friend Liam and I sat outside, talking one Saturday night. He asked my plans for Sunday and for the first time in my life, I hesitated. Church had always been where I lived outside of school and home, with Sunday being the day I looked forward to most. So why did I hesitate? I was tired of chasing God in the same place. The place where I was living looked pale and watery and as another Sunday came closer, I found a dullness within me where desire had always lived.
Liam sensed my hesitation and said, "Why don't you come to church with me?" I asked where he was going and he mentioned another large Southern Baptist church across town from my childhood home. I wasn't very excited about the prospect, but my sense of duty to God kicked in and I acquiesced and rode along with Liam the next morning. The people at this church were nice and very welcoming, but I felt out of place and swallowed up in their numbers. The preaching and music were good, but the message was no different than anything I'd heard before. As we walked to the car, my heart sank and I was much more quiet on the way back to campus, lost in my thoughts.
The weeks passed and although Liam and I tried quite a few churches, none of them seemed to fit me all that well. I resisted going back to my childhood church, partially because I didn't want to answer the "we've been missing you! where have you been?" questions, but partially because I just didn't want to go back. Eventually though, the choices of Southern Baptist churches were getting slim and Liam wanted to look at other denominations. I was terror struck at the idea of moving house altogether. It was one thing to "move my letter" from one Southern Baptist church to another, but quite a different thing to think of changing denominations. So Liam looked elsewhere and the next Sunday, I grudgingly found myself back at my home church.
It didn't last long, maybe three months or so. I never could get plugged into the college group and even though I could now sing with the adult choir, that felt not quite right either. I had been struggling most of the school year with a severe depressive episode and as the spring semester ended, I found that where I lived spiritually was in the Psalms of lament. Liam's roommate, Wood, knew my struggles were hard and one particularly difficult night gave me a long list of scriptures to encourage me and speak to me in this dark night. As I read through those verses, I stumbled onto a Psalm with a footnote saying it was one of the Psalms of lament and I latched onto it and its fellows for dear life.
My dog-eared Bible ceased to be a book, but instead became a life preserver and my temporary place to call home until a new friend helped me find an isle of respite in the storm.
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Join me tomorrow for the next prompt in this series, "Friend" for the next part of my journey!
Join me tomorrow for the next prompt in this series, "Friend" for the next part of my journey!
