I don’t make room for guilt and God in my heart. It seems that one or the other is reigning and the relief and comfort both bring, while so different, is consuming to the point that my body is flooded, there is no room.
Today, during my few minutes of yoga (I’m doing another ‘ten day challenge’ on my blog Facebook and instagram) I had that sweating/shaking/you brain isn’t ‘thinking-thoughtful-thoughts anymore’ moment. And I felt so clearly; “God is here. Here in yoga, in your book, in your baking, in your interactions with your girls. You are engaging Him, loving Him, and knowing Him better in these spaces.”
I am not a fan of many devotional books, contrived bible studies, or video series that are shown at Women’s Breakfasts. I have a hard time reconciling the woman on the video with my woman in the mirror, we seem like different breeds. The Church and I often times not lining up. My heart wanting to give to every homeless person I come across for my tithe, and churches seeming to scramble for new sound systems and technology for their sanctuary… I know none of it is that simple, but it feels simple to provide what you have to those who ask, without question. And, regardless, it often times leaves me feeling lost and guilty for not being at every study/sunday morning/and devotional. And I have battled that guilt for years. Ached for those spaces to feel right, the right fit. But have yet to find that church setting that seems to be brimming with Jesus and not judgement and legalism. And I know that half that battle is in my own heart, but big pieces of it also seem to lay in a deeply broken church. One that holds one mold, one kind of person, and I have struggled to reconcile where I fit.
But this morning it rained down on me in the midst of a thankful filled Sun Salutation. Yoga is a prayer, I spend those 25min feeling awe for His creation and how intricate my body and muscles and blood flow are. I feel intense thankfulness for the time and space from my girls I am getting to take. And I feel that calm, quiet, listening space emerge in the moments of holding a post just long enough to shake. I feel Him. Without judgement of “are my hands in the air?” or “did I just parent wrong in front of that church Mom?” or any other guilt ridden junk I lay on thick in those situations.
I feel abundance, and wholeheartedness, I feel vulnerable and awake, and feel thankfulness and new understanding. I end conversations with fiends (“non christians” !) and feel closer to God, deeper in relationship, and in Worship without ceasing, as opposed to ending the song set and checking the clock worried about my preschooler in the sunday school program.
I’ve found where I fit. I fit in with God. I fit in with movement. Nature. Friends. I fit with vulnerability and raw conversations with people who challenge me to look at what I think and believe and back it up; in scripture, in great books, in prayer, and in ironsharpensiron with Charlie. I feel at rest in where we are right now.
And if those movements don’t look and feel like worship, deeper than I’ve ever known, I don’t know what does.