Over the years, I have sat with many poor mothers and fathers as they have shared their stories of surviving genocide, slavery, and abuse. The pain they describe is unfathomable—and I’m tempted to imagine that the people who endure it are somehow different from me. Maybe, somehow, they just don’t feel things like I do. […]
Monday I wrote about why I don’t attend church regularly. I was naive to open such a sensitive conversation without expecting a backlash. I confess I was taken aback at the response. But also encouraged. I’d never confessed that before though I’ve many friends who’ve asked me to. In a way, I feel like I can be more myself now than ever.
That said, though, I was misunderstood in a number of ways so for sanity’s sake, I’ll create some clarification. So a follow-up is in order. That said, one caveat: I’ll offer camera angles on the issue because that’s how I think. I tend to see things from multiple angels and am comfortable not choosing “the right one.” I often weigh them against each other and continue to ask what camera angles I’m still not seeing.
I’ve a confession. I don’t connect with God by singing to Him. Not at all.
I know I’m nearly alone in this but it’s true. I was finally able to admit this recently when I attended a church service that had, perhaps, the most talented worship team I’ve ever heard. I loved the music. But I loved it more for the music than the worship. As far as connecting with God goes, I wasn’t feeling much of anything.