Wrestling...

So tonight at Celebrate a migraine pushed me out of the Gloria Christi and up the stairs into the sanctuary...

the chapel is beautiful in the dark.

the lights over the majority of the sanctuary...i'm hesitant to use this metaphor because i'm pretty sure that this image is only in my mind, but the lights are like these star clusters that somehow give off just enough warmth to make it feel like God's living room. Okay a really big living room, with a lot of uncomfertable pews...but a room which gives off the perfect amount of hospitality - not overly welcoming, but there waiting when you're ready.

so i finally sat down. i sat on the edge of the chancel and looked up. my thoughts scattered. i didn't understand. i don't understand. the windows were darkened; the chistus rex golden in all of it's incomprehensible symbolism. the branches moved outside. everything felt open. Celebrate continued on below - voices rose up, prayers, songs, the blessing...

there's something about the chapel, maybe about God really, that makes you feel like you found where you were supposed to be and yet are completely lost all at the same time.

I guess it's sort of apt that of all the irreconcilable differences in the world that it seems we as humans are to sort through, that God just simply makes us sit with the irreconilable oddities that are life and faith and realize there's absolutely nothing we can do with it.

I can make up my own beliefs or reasons for the way things are, the way things could be, and why I should or shouldn't make those happen. I can use logic to find out what I have to do each day and I can survive by drowning in the necessary tasks that consume every hour and minute. Then I go to sleep after an exhausted or forgotten prayer and think I've survived.

But you know there's still that moment when I finally sit down and realize that it's all in vain. I still haven't figured out anything.