Today my heart aches for the Church. I feel crushed by her. I feel unloved, misunderstood and disappointed. I’m angry and yet not surprised. I’m even more disappointed that I’m not surprised.
There is such a divide between Christ and his Church. The Body sometimes seems so far, so distant, so contrary to how I imagine her head. I want love in a way I’m realizing is very hard for man to do. I want the kind of love that can love the offender and the offended equally and desire more for both.
I know how hard it is for clay to try to contain the love of Majesty; I fail everyday. I want to desire more for someone I hate and never want to see again. I want to heal and not feel the bitter rancor that surfaces when I contemplate how his Body has handled my story. I’m angry and hurt but I don’t want to stay here.
I love God, but I am struggling every day, almost every moment, to love his Church. I want to see her as bigger than those who comprise her, but I am stuck, fixated on how I have experienced her negatively. I want to imagine more for her. I want to experience more of the good I know is there in earthen vessels.
But I’m afraid to approach, afraid to draw near. The wounds are too fresh, too raw. I’m scared that if I get too close the wounds will be grazed and hurt so badly all over again.
I’m afraid of feeling any of this pain all over again.