The wildflower sketch makes me cry. The word “edelweiss” – scripted into the story of a wine. It brings a melody, a memory, a reason I used to dance.
It is Sunday afternoon at Macaroni Grill, where the wood smoke has seeped into the very walls of the place, taking me back two hundred years, in spite of the air conditioned noise of the industrial kitchen. I am reading a restaurant menu, and suddenly I am closer to God than I was in my carpeted chair in a church far too large to comprehend.
I hold my breath, embarrassed. I am judging myself; I know how far short I fall. I am not what I thought I was meant to be.
I might be withering, like a piece of ash – burned out, crushed even by the wind that carries it away from the very fire that created it.
There’s something wrong with me, I think. My head tells me there should be nothing of God here and everything of Him in the room I just left, a room full of people trying to worship Him, inviting me to join them.
But the wounds go very deep. I steeled myself against them earlier, against even the music that threatened my control. I pictured myself without any clothes on, with no more restraint, wailing and dancing, crying out loud and crazy because loving God is that insane for me after pushing Him out for pain and being won again to His heart for me. I realized I am not so good as I suspect I should be; and I am not so free as I believe.
It’s the edelweiss that speaks the grace into my self-destruction, the simple sketch and design of it, blinking gray and white from the page now catching my tears.
I had remembered a song as I sat rigid in my seat instead of standing with the rest of the congregation. Someone wise sang it to me last year, reminding me – without knowing me – that I always knew God better in the fields, in children’s stories, on my blanket under the tree, at the piano, in the shadows sketched on my paper where no words would go.
“Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection – the lovers, the dreamers, and me…”
I am never enough in the church building – never, never, never, never enough.
It’s always been breathing that reminds me I am His. It’s always been dreaming that kept me believing God could do the impossible. It’s always been creating that helps me know how He loves me. Living as He created me, opening my life up to Him – this is my worship, my joy, my utter confusion. This is what it means to be in the world and not to be of it, to center my longing in another Place and to seek out the rumors of Home.
I stare at the flower, swallow hard, and decide one more time to trust His word that Jesus is enough.
FILED UNDER: Behind the Lens, Fine Art, God and Me, Personal
Ah, I remember that song. And though I don’t share your experience of ‘the church,’ I value your input and your story-telling about your own. Even though I have long ‘shed’ the fundamentalism of my earliest years, that building and those people still – across 50+ years – sing to me of Jesus. And the old Gothic building of my adolescent years, now gone to earthquake damage – it still sings to me of gifts-called-forth, hard-questions-welcomed, faith-for-your-mind-as-well-as-your-heart. So I feel blessed in my history, even though I am no longer in those places. For you, this is not the truth. So sing the song that draws you to what is the truth and find God where you find him. Maybe one day you will also find God in a church that is not bigger than imaginable, but just the right size with just the right teaching and just the right people. A place where it doesn’t matter one whit that you are not enough – because Jesus is always, always. . . more than. And because of Jesus – YOU are, too. Yes, you are. :>)
He is enough. He IS our own best thing, and what mystery, what grace, that we can know Him anywhere. What joy, what hope, that He seeks us so faithfully.
Such beautiful words, Kelly. Such beauty. Such truth. I love your heart.
I have a thought, but it could be off base. I know it’s true for me and that’s why I would share it. I have always lived that song. I stood during worship as melodies changed and words were new. I sang for one song but felt it was real for my heart. There was a time I tried to make all the words and melodies real as I sang them but they weren’t now that I’m letting my heart truly direct my tongue I find myself at a but of a loss. As you described feeling God at the Grill more than the church. I think when we learn to be real with God we see more clearly where we didn’t find Him. Sometimes it doesn’t line up with even what we think it should be. That’s when we feel off and foolish but we accept it because we know it’s real. Or at least that’s my story.
On my touch. I am sorry about the errors. I hope you can discern what the right words should be and where the missing punctuation should go.
Stacey, no worries. Thank you for your heart here. :-)
Such beauty here, Kelly. I love the ways God shows up in our lives, especially when He uses the unexpected to speak to us. Which is why I find Macaroni Grill to be an entirely appropriate venue for you to have such an experience. Love to you, friend, as you breathe, dream, create, live.
Well you know how I feel about the 4 walls. :) Grateful for you sharing the inner parts, here. <3
Was there some rule about necessary walls and more than 2 or 3 together that I missed? Follow God where he leads you … and if it happens to be a restaurant, well … at least it’s real worship, unconstrained.
Church is such a funny thing. For me, Church is a community that agrees to worship together and serve together. And at it’s best, it is a community that celebrates the specific grace of Jesus Christ as well as the common grace of God’s goodness in the world around us… even at the Macaroni Grill.
[...] looked and looked for that edelweiss sketch after I forgot to photograph it. I wanted to show you, wanted to have it to remember. But I [...]