They call what came first chaos,
said You were there, hovering—
waiting for the perfect moment
to unleash the light and make
something out of all our nothing.
A handful of months ago, we made the scary decision to take a break from church, which has never not been the fixed point that our lives orbit. After painful endings to both of our jobs in ministry, we stumbled somewhat aimlessly into a couple of different places before finally choosing to step away and take a breather.
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When I was growing up, I didn't know anything about the Liturgical Year. We attended a small Pentecostal church with rusty red carpet and green pews and a hefty pastor and my parents were not well versed in the church calendar. I knew about Daniel and the lion's den, Esther becoming queen, the prodigal son, and how one time Jesus made a cocktail of spit and dirt and rubbed it in the eyes of a blind man to give him back his sight.
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Recently, I've felt the sneaking pain of depression creeping back into my life. For the first time in months, I've found myself wondering if anyone cares about or even sees me. The headlines and trending topics have led me to question whether anyone cares enough to see anyone else.
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