The church service feels like suffocation.
It’s not that hot outside. Outside where the breeze is blowing and I can catch my breath in the fresh air.
But the air inside this church is so thick and stale that I feel like I could slice off a chunk with a knife and chew it up rather than breathing it.
I slip out the doors just as the first service is ending and the second is beginning. We’re a little more than halfway through this five hour service, and I’m not sure I’m going to make it.
I find a spot around the corner, in the shade. I lean up against the cement and rest in its coolness. I press my fingers and back against the smooth stone, hoping the cold will soak through my skin and into my bones. That it will last. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, but then open them again because I’m afraid I might fall asleep if I leave them closed too long.
The view is nice, rural and green. I’m surrounded by sugar cane fields and a bright blue sky.
The music stops, and I walk back inside for introductions. We’ve done this a hundred times.
“Hello, my name is Jenifer. I’m from America. I’m so excited to be here worshiping with you all today.”
The lie is out of my mouth before I can stop it, before I can think of something else to say. Because at this exact moment, I’m not happy to be here.
I’m working on it. Or He’s working on it anyway. Just when I’m at the end of my rope, God adds a couple more inches. But I’m still getting rope burn, hanging here.
So I guess the prayer request would be for an increase in joy, energy, encouragement, and purpose.
Thanks friends!
