On Sunday I will be attending a Nazarene church for worship for the first time in 4.5 years. It is my recently deceased Father-in-law’s birthday and we don’t want Miriam’s mom to go alone. So I reached out to the DS to make sure it was okay and got the green light.
Honestly, I am afraid. I am not afraid of the people, as I am sure they are nice. I am afraid of the memories that the experience will bring back from the parts of my brain that I buried deep. Honestly, I would rather they stay buried there.
Let me make a quick turn that serves a purpose here…
I have always been bothered by how The Lord of the Rings ends. A hungry, tired, bleeding, and hurting, Frodo does not drop the ring. It always felt like evil won. Then, after all his sacrifice, he does not get to live out his days in the Shire. Frodo leaves the tales to be told by his best friend, Sam.
Miriam shared a post with me about one persons interpretation of why Tolkien took this path. It was the mercy of Frodo in not taking Gollum’s life earlier that became the catalyst to save his own life later. Mercy became mercy. It wasn’t Frodo’s strength that saved him. It was mercy when Frodo could not save himself. Sometimes, when you cannot save yourself, and it feels like evil is winning, the story may not end as you want. What matters is mercy.
Back to church on Sunday…
You have no idea how many times I wanted to expressly say what happened to us in our past. Miriam and I are the only two that know. Even now I want to hint at things designed to help people understand what happened. “People deserve to know what they did!” No - the only thing to say is, “Father, forgive me my sins as I forgive those who sin against me.”
I am turning 55 next year and my life is not ending as I thought it would. Speaking evil against others will only hurt me and change very little else. Doing so is a violation of mercy and an abandonment of the prayer Jesus taught us to pray. I used to think that the suffering would be transformed into glorious purpose. Then I remember Frodo. I don’t control the end. I only control my prayer. “Father, forgive me…”
So on Sunday, Miriam and I will face down our demons. Tears are in my eyes because I know already what the enemy will do and I know it will sting like the blade of Mordor in Frodo’s chest.
I don’t control what The Father does with me. Today I will love students and teach them. I love what I do. While I struggle with the institutions and systems that we call the church, I remain steadfast and resolute in my belief in the Body of Christ, His Bride, The Church meant to reflect the very presence and character of Jesus wherever we go.
I confess I don’t yet fully know or understand how I am to intersect and serve as a part of that Body, in light of existing systems and accepted spiritual cultures, but I know a merciful God who loves unconditionally a wounded couple who served the established church for 30 years. Even if the sting never goes away, I will always love the Messiah who first loved me.