Spirituality

I'm reading a fiction novel, based on religious fact. Angels and Demons is the prequel to The Davinci Code. While reading, I found some text that I am particularly drawn to. A comfort of sorts for my own spiritual seeking.

"Mr. Langdon, I did no ask you if you believe what man says about God. I asked if you believed in God. There is a difference. Holy scripture is stories...legends and history of man's quest to understand his own ned for meaning. I am not asking you to pass judgment on literature. I am asking if you belive in God. When you lie out under the stars, do you sense the divine? Do you feel in your gut that you are staring up at the work of God's hand?"

"Religion is like language or dress. We gravitate toward the practices with which we were raised. In the end, though, we are all proclaiming the same thing. That life has meaning. That we are grateful for the power that created us."

"Faith is universal. Our specific methods for understanding it are abitrary. Some of us pray to Jesus, some of us go to Mecca, some of us study subatomic particles. In the end we are all just searching for truth, that which is greater than ourselves."

"Science tells me God must exist. My mind tells me I will never understand God. And my heart tells me I am not meant to."

A spiritual moment

I had a spiritual moment today. It came as quite a shock to me, as I have not been actively pursuing my faith and have actually really been struggling with my basic belief in God. I've not prayed in a very long time and have been focusing instead on sending positive thoughts to others when they are needed.

A little bit of background.... I've not felt comfortable at my home church for over 2 years - almost three now. But, I continued to attend for the benefit of my big girls. They'd formed lots of relationships there and it is the only church home they've known. They continued to attend church even when I stopped, getting rides with various friends. I supported their beliefs and appreciated that they respected the space I needed, even though they had no real knowledge of why I wasn't attending church with them.

So, yesterday, my dad mentioned that he'd be preaching today. For those who don't know, he is a retired ordained minister. I haven't heard him preach in quite some time, and I miss it. It is one of the primary reasons that I've struggled with my faith as an adult. My faith was always associated to my father, and after his retirement - it was difficult for me to find my own path.

I decided to join him at church. He attends a very progressive church that is more open and affirming then any church I've visited. I attended alone - I wanted a chance to really pay attention to the service without the distraction of my children.

His sermon was wonderful. He preached on a topic that I've heard him speak on many times, as it it was the true basis of his life-long ministry and my upbringing - the importance of fighting for social justice.

Then it came time for the communion. I immediately noticed that this church did communion different than anything I'd experienced. When they offer the bread and juice - the place it in each person's mouth, lean forward, place their hands around the person's shoulders and pray with them. Each person is prayed for individually. It is a private prayer, only those in the immediate group can hear the words. It was special - it was clear to all who participated. My dad expected me to go with him. I got nervous at the last minute and told him I'd not be taking communion. He had an expresion on his face that I can't quite explain. I'm not sure what the emotion was- surprise, disappointment, sadness? I saw him walk up there on his own. And this is when the beginning of my spiritual moment occured. I looked at him - and had the strongest urge in my gut to join him. I heard a message - I'm not sure exactly what it was - it could have been "you need me" or "he needs you" - either way - I knew I needed to be with him. I jumped from my seat and hurried up to him. Thankfully he caught my eye and saw that I asked him to wait.

I've never had someone pray over me in quite this personal of a way. I've participated in many prayers - I've offered prayers - but never has someone touched me so tenderly and held me while praying over me. I cried - and cried. I had my arm around my dad's back - and just held on to him. I let the tears flow freely. It was a freeing experience.

Since then - I've wondered why this meant so much to me, whether it was my Dad's cancer - and the seriousness of this week as he plans to journey to Houston again for what we hope is his final surgery. I'm trying not to over-analyze this - as I tend to do. So for now I'm just enjoying this beautiful moment I had with God, my dad, and some very loving strangers.