Living Is Hard

God of grace and mercy

Fisherman, Newport Pier 2015 | iphone

“Jesus called fishermen, not graduates of rabbinical schools. The main requirement was to be natural and sincere.” ― Jim Cymbala

In 2017, I walked away from the glitter of the mega church. Feeling judgement in my heart, checking myself at the door, it was time to step back and hear Jesus. I had to go it alone. Everything about church was reverberating, bouncing off the walls, loud, like the pump of the guitarist’s amp. It began to blend with the watered down message of the world and all the concerts I loved shooting and attending. But. I couldn’t concentrate, focus or hear the message. At church. Sacred, it felt like my ears were in a vice grip and my eyes were focused on sparkly high heeled shoes and flailing arms.

Oh the judgement coming over me, through me and out of me.

It began with several visits to Brooklyn to attend the Brooklyn Tabernacle Church, where in an old theater, packed to the gils with community, church members, travelers, like us, and many who lived on the streets, I was able to feel with clarity, focus and worship. I would get home to California, attend our church, that we had fallen in love with, from day one, and realized it was changing. The desperate moves to bring the “lost millennials” into our church made me uncomfortable. I craved the way of prayer, petition, and the “plan” for the church. A “Book of Acts” church.

Around this time I read Pastor Jim Cymbala’s book, “Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire,” and I kept it near my heart and mind.

In no way do I want to offend anyone reading this. I personally wasn’t growing and I paddled my butt out the door.

“I discovered an astonishing truth: God is attracted to weakness. He can’t resist those who humbly and honestly admit how desperately they need him. Our weakness, in fact, makes room for his power.” ― Jim Cymbala

I got up and left. There are times where you have to close shop and build yourself back up. You have to go through hard times, strip yourself down, stand naked and humble and ask everyday to be grown, be molded, into something better and wiser. You also have to get up and carry your cross, your blessing, your life, up a hill with the noise of flashing screens and yelling all around you… and let God’s will be done.

I have always seen the world for what it is since I was a little girl. The tenderness of it. The absolute gift and beauty of it. People. Struggling people. I asked my three children to sit with the kids who seemed lonely in school from the time they were little.

But I know, I have spiritual work to do. I have to start over each day.

Mega and noise eliminates spiritual intimacy. Loud often prevails. Even in church. People become lost. And don’t get me wrong, you can be incredibly useful and enjoy a mega or large church. But not if you haven’t done the work on yourself. After the work, it’s your choice where you land. But remember, church, of any size, is the world.

First responders do the work. They go through the training. They work at communication, rescue and strength. They carry heavy loads and often the heaviness of people. They struggle at the end of the day to let it go. To let God. It’s not easy, the scenes they can’t unsee.

The church, is in fact, a hospital. It is a building loaded with broken people.

Last Easter, 2023, we followed our former worship pastor into a tiny church. To begin again. It felt right. Surrounded by the beauty of a small elderly body, something we had craved, as old as we are, seasoned bones a few steps ahead of us, we began again, as babies.

In my previous story, I wrote about a lost soul wandering our neighborhood. I asked my digital community for prayer, but the Ring security denied it. It was also a “fair” warning that since our leaders had left him behind to the streets, like so many lost souls, it wouldn’t be a good idea for children to encounter him in a bathroom or on the street, as he wasn’t himself. Many, on the streets are so far gone they see monsters and demons that aren’t there. It can be dangerous. It is ultimately heartbreaking.

The deep spiritual battle is nothing new, but the numbers of leaders, presently, who have forgotten the One leader, and what leadership means, is exponentially riddled in greed, corruption.

It feels as though we are experiencing another Fall of Rome.

Today, in church, as we took communion, I felt a strong need to commit to praying daily for our leaders, all over our nation and world, to be “called.” To turn to Him. Break down. Cry out for help. Grow humble and seek humility as they lead.

What we saw as we stepped off the train in Brooklyn. This was during the years our youngest was attending university in New York. However, we kept going back.

When we pulled our car up to the curb, I looked across the street at the most beautiful wisteria tree, full bloom, in the park. There was a young man, with a hood covering his face sitting below it. He had a backpack.

As pastor finished sermon, we gathered our things to leave, there he was in the back of the church. I caught his eye, his shyness, and said hello. He found me in the foyer. His smile was contagious. I was certain he was homeless, from our gentle conversation, and I was most certain he had walked quite a long way to church, where he waited under the beautiful wisteria tree.

God brought the helplessness of yesterday to today. Sunday.

A sweet, quietly yearning to belong, young man carried his cross/backpack a long way to our tiny church, where the wisest and most learned, welcomed him with open arms.

I marveled at how beautifully hard living can be.

This is so beautiful to watch.

I look forward to catching up with my beautiful Substack community next week. Thank you for taking this journey with me. ox

P.S. I know. I said “beautiful” a lot.