In My Weakness...

It’s a long story but just know that after a teeny four-decade hiatus from the church, I found my way back about 2 years ago.  Living Streams has been home ever since but, the first time I attended, I felt like I was in a foreign land.  I took a seat in back and watched as an entire band, complete with guitars, drums and keyboards, filled the stage.  St. Cyril never had a band.  The minute they started playing, people started dancing.  There was certainly no dancing in Catholic church.  Then, as if on cue, people started raising their arms and hands into the air; some with their palms facing toward the stage, others with their arms to the sides like an airplane, and still some with just one hand in the air, with their index finger pointed toward the sky. The lead singer of the band literally dropped to his knees mid-song.  I quickly scanned the room to see if anyone would come to his aid only to learn that there were some people in attendance also on their knees.  

What in the hell is going on here?  

I had never seen anything like it.  I was uncomfortable and I wanted to leave.  Yet there was something oddly entertaining about watching the folks with their arms in the air.  Also, the band was amazing, so I stayed.

I would continue to attend church regularly while still amused by those who outstretched their arms in worship.  I got involved in small groups, even volunteered with the Worship Team, but never got into the arm-waving-thing...it just wasn’t my jam.   

Then one day I attended an out-of-state Women’s Conference, a Christian event put on by the Daily Audio Bible ministry.  It was transformative.  It was life-changing.  It was impossible not to raise my arms in worship.  My hands were in the air during every single song.  Once back at Living Streams, I was a full-fledged member of the outstretched-arm club.  When the music came on, my arms went out.  It was automatic and resistance was futile.  Music on = arms out.

Then June 23rd happened.

Church hasn’t been the same since.  Ok, church is the same but I’m different.  Listening to the band the first few times back at church without Aaron was torture in the way that music stirs something in your soul that cannot be ignored.  My throat constricted in an effort to remain as composed as possible and I couldn't wait for the last worship song to end.  Meanwhile, the outstretched arms all around me served as a reminder of my rigid and uncomfortable stance.  I’ve become who I was prior to attending the Women’s Conference, I thought as I shoved my hands into my pockets, standing motionless against a backdrop of bodies moving to the rhythm of the music.

But, with each service that I attended, it got a little easier.  In fact, I attended church this morning and sang along with the band for the first time since June 23rd.  But, my arms still rested safely and securely by my side, not once reaching out, not even a little.  The minute I begin picturing holding my arms out, tears well up in my eyes.  Why are outstretched arms synonymous with tears?

I came up with an answer:  Vulnerability.  

We humble ourselves when we wholeheartedly worship with our arms outstretched and our hearts lifted to the Lord in praise.  Humility and vulnerability live in that space and when I’m humble and vulnerable, I can’t help but cry.  It’s a surrendering.  It’s coming into a place of weakness where in my vulnerability, emotions have a way out; tears find their way down my cheeks and sadness easily walks through the once locked door that strength so fiercely guarded.  

I hate it.   

I am sick of crying and especially sick of doing so in public.  But, there are still tears and they need a place to fall.  And truly I know that in my weakness, He strengthens me.  But, weakness has to come first.  Vulnerability has to be the pathway to allow strength to follow.

Later in the afternoon, I visited my friend, Tresea, at Lululemon where she works part time.  There was a wall where people had written down short phrases and words of encouragement.  While she was busy with a customer, I scanned the squares reading each one and until my eyes fell on one square where someone wrote “vulnerable & strong”.  

The word 'vulnerable' is written first.   

Next Sunday I vow to be vulnerable.  I will reactivate my membership in the arm-waving club by outstretching my arms to God in praise during worship.

There won't be enough Kleenex in the world that morning.