Home No More

When we parked the car this morning, I immediately felt my anxiety peak.

My boyfriend entered the church, and I stayed behind, locking myself in the car.

As time passed, I decided to walk in.  I left the car, entered the church, avoided the South Hall, and ran into the bathroom.

For it only to have been four weeks since my last visit to Hope’s young adult Sunday school, it felt bizarre to be as scared as I was.  Four weeks is only 28 days.  What could have changed in a month? I thought.

From the bathroom, I walked through the bookstore to kill more time.  I admired its novelties until 11:03.

YAC starts at 11:15.

I begrudgingly left the bookstore and returned to the bathroom for one more check-up.  Make-up, check.  Dress check, check.  Appearing to have some sanity, check. 

I straightened my dress and began my walk to the South Hall.  The first person I saw was a close friend…four weeks ago.  I suddenly felt estranged standing next to her, watching her interact with her new friends.

She didn’t quite give me the “Welcome home!” I expected, and instead barely noticed me.  Where I once owned a comfortable spot in the core group of girls, I was now surrounded by several people I didn’t know, hadn’t met, but had taken my place, and were now the new clique.  I felt completely awkward.  Estranged and awkward were two feelings I had never before felt within those walls.

As I stood there, sinking, another friend walked up to me.  He was like a life-preserver floating over right before I went under.  I hugged him, almost frantically, relieved to see a warm face.

From there, we walked through the main doors to the South Hall, and I found myself being completely unattracted to the atmosphere.

Everything felt so foreign.  I didn’t feel welcomed.  I didn’t feel wanted.  And suddenly I was standing in a replica of the big church service.  What had happened to the simplicity?

I felt like a stranger in my own home—only I realized it wasn’t my home anymore.

I found my boyfriend, who, like the others, was also too busy to deal with me, and I sat unsure into the seat next to him.

The music began and something in my spirit wasn’t settling.  First song, I was uncomfortable.  Second song, panicking.  Third song, hyperventilating.  I turned to my boyfriend, whispered my plan to leave, and quickly made my way to the exit.

As soon as my fingers touched the double doors, I felt my face break.  I began crying in the atrium, but, to avoid attention, quickly fixed myself.  I just had to make it another hundred feet before I could cry without worrying someone would stop me.

I finally made it to my boyfriend’s car.  I could barely fit the key into the ignition I was so shaken.  My heart was pounding.  At that point, I physically couldn’t stop myself from crying anymore.  I cried down the block, up the stairs, in the kitchen, and on the couch.  The tears continued to fall.  On my knees, hands to my face, I relentlessly called out to God.

Peace didn’t come until a half an hour later.  My body wrecked with fatigue, I lay on the couch, praying.

I don’t understand in the slightest what happened today.  Mentally and emotionally, I was stripped.  My body was physically reacting to my being back at that church.  I didn’t feel called to attend YAC today.  I went against my initial feelings which proved unfavorable.  I need to listen to God now more than ever.  I need to follow Him and stay close to Him.

Last night, my friend lovingly looked at me and said, “You must know you’re in the fight for your life now.”

Today at Independent Presbyterian, Reverend Richie said, “He is in the fight of his life right now,” iterating God’s message of caution to me.

I am closer to now God than I have ever been.  As beautiful as this is, it is proving equally as dangerous.

It is the Lord your God you must follow, and him you must revere.  Keep his commands and obey him; serve him and hold fast to him (Dueteronomy 13:4).

I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek they servant; for I do not forget they commandments (Psalm 119:176).

Rivers of water run down mine eyes, because they keep not they law (Psalm 119:136).