Baring your soul

Baring your soul is hard. Especially in front of people, people you know, people who thought they knew you.

Today at church myself and a dear friend Melissa ran the service. Once a month we have a family service where a family or an individual from the congregation co-ordinates the service.

Melissa and I got together and decided our theme this week would be "come as you are". We organised lots of great songs, a couple of nice warm fuzzie readings, a dvd clip showing a girl feeling out of place, and then Melissa thought it might be a good idea to ask people to share a time when they have felt they didn't belong.

She started the ball rolling with a great story of her own, funny, eloquent, with a great message. The whole time she was talking I was waging a battle in my own head, it went something like this.

You have to share your thoughts.

No.

You are being prompted to share your story, so you have to obey.

No. I'll cry. I hate crying.

I can't talk and cry, my face wrinkles up and my voice goes all squeeky.

They won't understand a word, so no point doing it.

God, if I share my story please help me out by letting me not cry.

Can I have a sign? Do we have a deal? Hello?

Please please please help me keep it together.

Maybe if you write it down and read it out you won't cry.

(madly scribbles on back of order of service)

She is almost finished.

Nope. Can't do it. Hate crying.

Melissa then finished up her story and handed me the microphone, where I was to introduce the next song.

I took the microphone, and my little story badly scribbled, and stood up. I just felt compelled to share what I had written. And I cried (I was a bit cross about this!, but have decided that perhaps I needed to show how I really felt, which meant crying) But I managed to get through it and get my message across. It went something like this:

My story isn't as witty or amusing as Melissa's, but I feel I need to share it regardless. I have often felt out of place right here, in this church. (voice wobbles) I turn up every week (ok, most weeks) without a husband, and often without children to what is a fantastic family church. (start sniffling here). I've come to realise though, that the standards that I feel I can't live up to aren't God's standards, but my own. (not sure if they understood any of this through gulps, sniffles and deep breaths). I'm finally getting it through my thick head that I can come here and belong, no matter where I am in my life, because the Lord will always meet me wherever I am.

Now, I didn't say much, but it took me a while, and I felt such a sense of releif. Almost like I really needed to say it. Obviously I did really need to say it or the Lord wouldn't have poked and prodded me until I did.

Lord, thank you that you meet me where ever I am at. Thank you that you love me just as I am, and that your love is unconditional. I pray that I can continue to work on my insecurities and grow closer and closer to you each day.