Ordinary Life

One of my internet friends has been tackling the phrase ' worship experience ' lately along with probing the idea that worship is something we "feel" or an environment we can create on Sunday mornings. As a person with a more reserved personality, this topic resonates with me and while I never feel that I have the answers , I am learning to join the conversation . My churched background has afforded many opportunities to feel pressure from the platform or my gathering of friends to 'perform' worship in a way that is more visible and animated than my comfort level. I have prayed beside people offering their prayers in tongues unknown. I have been told that my faith was only genuine if I was willing to pick up a snake. (There were no snakes present in the Kroger where this conversation occurred, thankfully - but it was a real conversation) I have scoffed at fog machines and cameramen running across the stage to get the next shot. I have scoffed at three piece su...

Worship War Ship We may be surrounded but We will go down with this ship.  I am learning this about fighting my battles-with-worship not to mention fighting my battles with worship:  Work with the options given; Be the change I wish to see It’s like dancing  This “feeling the Spirit move” but not with shouting or charisma I am more guarded than I ever admit  I do not cry out loud Not in public No displays of any affection Worship is not an outward expression of  inward devotion  It -for me- is mostly inward You can’t see my heart racing, my mind reeling  But I am learning I am feeling. My 'worship experience'  is me, experiencing worship the way I do Alongside my brothers and sisters  experiencing worship in all the ways that they do.

    I let my full weight fall against Burger King's heavy glass door and pushed against it. By nature a fairly passive person, I knew the door would absorb my unusually forceful shove with no loss of dignity. I even imagined it welcomed me a little. Better doors than people. (or...doors are better than people?)    We were en route to the bedside of a very sick relative and I knew we may not make it in time to say good bye.    Over the course of the morning, I had morphed into a tiny black rain cloud, prone to outbursts like thunder claps and sudden showers that washed away any semblance of "strength".     Once inside the ladies room,  I wiped away what streaked mascara could be budged and sighed a prayer of "please".    I wasn't praying for extra time. I wasn't praying to get there. I was praying for peace and that all would be well with my uncle...soul wise...you know..." It is well...it is well...with my soul ." And I wa...

The real problem with a hard-hitting, right-on-the-money-Sunday-morning-sermon is my propensity to quote parts of it against my fellow man (and myself) for the rest of the week.  I don't think that's how they're supposed to work. Leave Space For Grace, Kelly .  (Ah yes...I've heard she was quite the dancer.) 

I'm peeking at you peeking at me .  .  .

St. Marys, GA