blinded

If you’ve read here very long, you know I can be somewhat conflicted about working for a church. Not my church, particularly; more the notion of being associated with THE church.  Sometimes, it’s because things are so ridiculous that they are laughable; sometimes it is about the very real struggle to remain truthful as both an artist and as a church staff member.

Mostly, though, I think it’s about pride. The nagging feeling that if I were really a writer, that I would be writing a book. Or, if I were really an actor, I’d be off in a production somewhere. Not to mention all the things that I think that other people think about churches, and the people who work there (much of it deserved).

Like I said, it’s about pride. And every so often, God is graceful enough to gently knock it out of me.

We watched this video, again, at church on Sunday, making it the third time I’ve seen it.  I cry every time.  It’s just so beautiful.  But somehow, this third time, I think I heard a bit of what God was trying to say to me.

Are you kidding me? You’ve got it all wrong. Don’t you see how lucky you are to call this place home? To be with these people, this family?

And then, even more quietly – why do you care so much about all that other stuff?

I watch the images flicker past: hands outstretched, bodies leaned into the work and the play, faces lit up with smiling. I see these precious ones, brothers and sisters, taking big and small steps of faith; I can see the seed sprouting, taking root, shining in the sun. And for this I say thank You, and you, and yes and amen. Thank you for helping me see.