Mourning to dancing...

The past few months have not been good ones for my church. In late October, our pastor resigned after confessing to "indiscretions with a female church member". At that point, I hadn't attended a Sunday morning service for a month, because I'd gotten tired of sobbing or fighting off panic attacks. Yes, it was that bad.

And it got worse after the resignation, as people who knew the story or thought they knew the story or didn't even pretend to know the story (but staunchly maintained that our former pastor was a horribly mistreated, great guy because he visited them when they were in the hospital and didn't deserve to be "fired" [wasn't] just because of a few [umm, yeah] text messages and emails and clandestine meetings) all decided to go to war with one another. Can you say "happy church family", boys and girls? Sure, you can. But you wouldn't be describing MY church.

But in the midst of the anger and hurt and deep heartache, there are strong remnants of the beautiful body...and they shine even in their time of mourning. I was part of one of those shining moments tonight.

A beautiful 13 week-old baby has been diagnosed with a digestive problem that may require immediate surgery. What did her parents do when they heard the news? They called the church and requested that people gather to pray for her tonight before she sees the surgeon tomorrow. And we did. Tonight, many of us gathered at the altar in the dimly lit sanctuary, anointed her with oil, encircled her and prayed for her healing.

And as we prayed, I felt another kind of healing taking place. This was the body, acting like a body. We weren't "in" the church, we weren't acting in whatever self-righteous way "good" church people act...we were BEING the church. And in "being", we were being healed. I stood and watched people laughing and talking and lingering long after we were done with the "business" we'd come for and sensed a spirit of joy and hopefulness that's been long-absent. It's a step, it's a beginning. It's a good beginning.