The Bloody Doors Off

I’ve never had a ‘Come to Jesus’ moment.

Can’t say I know anyone who has. Doesn’t mean they haven’t.

But I did come close.

After my breakdown. I wasn’t working, money was extremely tight.

I felt lost.

Found myself at Eastminster United Church one afternoon.

Not sure how I ended up there. Might’ve been across the street having coffee.

Anyway. It struck me to go inside, so I did.

And I prayed. For the first time in decades.

Lemme back up. I’m a lapsed Catholic. I split from the church in my teens, because I disagreed with my father being excommunicated after he’d had an affair and divorced. Well, that’s not the only reason. I don’t agree with many of their policies, including homosexuality, gay marriage, abortion, etc.

But I believed. Still do.

Just not sure in what.

So I consider myself mildly spiritual. I believe there’s more going on than we will ever know.

But that’s for philosophers and scientists to debate and discover.

If I was to affiliate with a church, it would be United.

I think that’s why I went there that afternoon.

This was the summer after my breakdown, so close to a year since I’d been in hospital.

So I prayed.

I cracked open a book of hymns.

The first held no meaning.

The second, however. Spoke about how He was there, before I even called to him.

It meant something. But clearly, it didn’t stick.

Because here I am, almost a decade later.

No closer to God than I was when I was ten.

Still wondering about that moment in the church.