But for My people to pursue

There's something about stained glass windows and old, dusty pews that brings a sense of peace and serenity to my soul. With that in mind, I wandered into an Anglican Church three blocks from my apartment last night. The service was quite beautiful, and I was struck by something the priest said prior to administering Communion:

"The Table of God is made ready for those who love Him, and those who want to love Him more. So, come. Whether you have much faith or little, whether you've tried to follow or are afraid you've failed. Come."

In response to this post, a young gentleman wondered why -- in light of my obvious disdain and frustration with all things 'Christian' -- I even bother attending church in the first place.

My answer: I do not know.

But if I had to wager a guess, I'd say it's because my heart desperately wants to experience God. Week after week, I sit next to people who passionately believe a bizarre version of history, and I feel envious of them. I sit next to people who -- despite all of their awful prejudices -- are more gracious, giving, and compassionate than I could ever hope to be. I sit there, singing contrived songs, listening to shallow sermons, mouthing artificial prayers, and I think to myself, 'I wish this was real.'

It's as if there's an epic tug-of-war taking place between my emotions and my intellect, my heart and my brain. I want to believe, but I cannot. I want to 'follow Christ', but I cannot. I want to walk away from church, but I cannot.

"The Table of God is made ready for those who love him, and those who want to love him more. So, come."

I shall.