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I’m sad. But it’s not a “crying” kind of sad. It’s a grieving sort of sad. I went to “worship” alone today. Nelson had fallen asleep on the couch (sitting up so as to avoid hurting either his back or his sunburn) and even though I made noise that could have woke him up, he stayed asleep. So I snuck out the back door and went alone.

When I arrived only the “leader” was present. We started out having a light conversation about our week—sort of an accountability check in. Then he began to describe the prayer time the extended group had on Monday evening last week. During the prayer time, Jim came to believe that it was time to end the Sunday morning gathering. The group had dwindled down to where it was basically Nelson and I and the leader couple, Jim and Cheryl. It hadn’t felt “worshipful” since before Easter. It just seemed “time” to let it go.

Jim and I went on to have a really interesting conversation, but it was all head stuff. I was afraid to get too close to heart stuff because I knew I was on the verge of tears and I just didn’t want to go there. I heard myself saying that I had been anticipating this event, and that given the way God had been so clearly leading in our lives over the past months, I was sort of excited about what direction we would be heading into now.

Sort of. What else could I say? Last year when my PO told me that I wouldn’t be allowed to attend church without a pastoral intervention and then having that pastor decide that he couldn’t “put his congregation at risk by allowing me to be present” left me feeling extremely discouraged and defeated. For all it wasn’t, the T-Net “worship group” at least filled the Sunday morning void. Now what?

When I got home, Nelson and I discussed the meeting. He wasn’t too surprised. His question too was “now what?” He listed out a few options, none of which was very appealing. The first was a nearby local congregation. We’ve watched the services on TV. But I was aware that the congregation wasn’t open to working with “my kind.” A second option was the Nazarene Church in a nearby town whose pastor we met with a couple months ago. The pastor and wife were college friends of ours and the way they described the ministry of the congregation was somewhat appealing, but neither Nelson nor I want to go back into the legalistic constraints of the Nazarene Church. A third option is the Wesleyan Church that our friend Steve (who is also working with Nelson on the house project). Steve knows the generalities of my situation. He’s never asked the particulars (details), it wasn’t an issue for him. We would be welcome there. Only problem is that it’s about forty miles away. With gas prices, it’s just not a financially feasible or appealing option.

Nelson just came to the bedroom to see what I was doing. Normally I would just sit in the living room and write, but I just needed to be alone to process through this. Here’s how the conversation went:
N: Why is God so mean to us?
T: God isn’t mean.
N: Then why is He putting us through this?
T: Maybe he wants us to trust Him to lead us and depend on Him.
N: Then He has 6 ½ days to tell us where to go to church next Sunday. And in all our lives God hasn’t worked that fast.
T: I don’t know why God is being so mean.
N: (as he walked away) Well, have fun processing that.

I don’t think God is being mean. I’m just confused. I ache to be in worship. And by that I mean a time with other believers where there is praise and preaching, that is powerful, encouraging, challenging, uplifting, and empowering. I am hungry for teaching, to sit and learn from another student of the word. I need more than the radio and the TV—but I am thankful for both of those.

I am sad, but I am hopeful—albeit a weak hopeful right now—it is still hope!

Well, I think I’m going to go hunt up some sustenance for my physical being so that I might continue to process in my spirit.