Over the past almost-year of traveling again I feel like we have mostly floated away from what we called church, what we knew as worship, what role it had in our lives, and what it meant to us.
Whether we cut ourselves free or were pushed I can’t yet say. I also can’t say where our destination is.
What I do know is that we are reading a few different books (mostly suggested by others that seem to be in a similar spot), having a number of conversations around the topic, and trying to let God show us where we need to be.
Last Sunday was Easter Sunday. I just could not stomach the thought of getting ourselves dressed and out the door and driving 30 minutes to a new church we found online.
Then dealing with the awkwardness of introductions to people whom you know you’ll never likely see again.
We did that at Christmas. We found a church attend and try to celebrate the Saviors Birth and instead got distracted with a worship band that felt led to re-mix every single Christmas hymn.
We spent the whole service trying to figure out how to not sing the wrong note or word rather than focus on the meaning of the song.
So we traded that awkwardness for the awkwardness of doing our own thing and find a scenic spot to walk to as a family. We prayed, had Harrison lead some songs on the guitar, and then took turns reading through the Easter story.
And yes, it was awkward.
Turns out we don’t know those songs as well as we thought we did. Turns out it takes more effort to do the prayer yourself. Turns out reading the entire account of Jesus’s crucifixion, death and resurrection, aloud takes longer than you’d think.
But in spite of that, it felt right.
This morning I stepped out on a walk down to the Verde River which borders the campground we are in. No one else wanted to go so it became a time of reflection and thinking again on the whole topic of church and worship.
I’m not really ready to say more - yet anyway - as we are still trying to figure it out.