I’m honestly not sure how much more my heart can take, this
week. It is raw.
It’s Sacramental Saturday at FGT, and I am dumbfounded,
because I spent hours, yesterday, worshipping with people from my tribe who are
deeply devoted to worship that includes (and is very often centered around) the
Eucharistic meal and the grace it imparts, instituted by Jesus, commanded of us
if we seek to both properly remember his death and go out, filled with his
life.
This morning, one of the first things I saw was an angry
message indicating that I do not, in fact, respect or take the Catholic Church
seriously, because I participate in
the Eucharist. After doing my very best
to answer this concern with grace and love, I just sat down and cried (OK… let’s be real… I didn’t actually wait to cry. I cried as I typed the response. Then I cried some more. And some more. And some more.)
I would think that I’m pretty close to out of tears, but
they just keep coming. Some have been
good: Some have been terrible. At the
very least, the floodgates are damaged, but I am beginning to think they have
washed away, altogether.
But at least I’m broken.
It’s necessary if we want to be like Jesus.
L.
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