Like A Little Bird

Last Sunday morning, 8 am. I am sitting in the house and the question hits me again. Do I go to church? One would think that such a decision would be a simple one- go if you want to. It’s not so easy for me. I don’t want to be motivated by condemnation. I don’t want to be motivated by thoughts of myself just being selfish and not worth sharing myself with others. I don’t want to be motivated by any form of coercion or legalistic form of requirement. I want to go because it is in my heart to do so. So, once more, I rock back and forth, saying, I want to go but I don’t want to. I don’t know. Maybe I have been hurt somehow. Maybe it’s a combination of things. One thing I know, Father Kurt and the folks at Christ the Redeemer have not put any stress on me for either attending or not, understanding me, I guess, in a way, better than I do myself, and for that I am grateful.

This particular morning rather than anguishing over it and winding up just picking the lesser of evils and staying home (where it’s safe!), I went to my bedroom to talk to God. So, I told Him what’s going on. Why am I in such a struggle over this thing? Why do I fret so? What’s the matter with me? Then I just sat and waited.

Eventually, I became aware of the birds outside my house singing. I went to the window and peered through the blinds, parting them with my fingers and squinting into the morning brightness. “My,” I thought. “God must surely smile at these wonderful birds who sing with such beauty.” Then the thought occurred to me. If God smiles at these birds of his creation, how much more so does He surely smile at his children who lift songs of praise to him with their lives? I saw myself then as a small bird, cooped up in my house, a birdhouse of sorts, who does not come out to sing often along with the others. When I do though, does He not see me and smile at this bird of sorts who has joined his voice with the others?

I went to church last week. Perhaps the idea of my being a sort of Cuckoo is apt, but I for one am thankful that God is not finished with me yet.