We worshipped Jesus. We read the scriptures. We prayed. There was laughter and hugs and coffee. God’s presence was present. We lingered there together. It was diverse and beautiful and genunine. My soul breathed slowly and deeply.
Maintaining this rhythm with God’s children felt good and right. Real bodies in a real room in real time. It reset my inner compass towards the divine. I was reminded of the bigness of God and the precious smallness of my life that is held in his love.
I am grateful for this gift.
Yet this was also the first Sunday in over 17 years in which I was a pastor without a parrish. More than that, it was the first Sunday in over two decades in which I was spiritually homeless. It was communion out of context. My God was tangibly near, but my people felt so very far away. I met him in a church, but not in my church.
Friends and fam: I missed you.
