Sunday Special: Loving, leaving and finding the Church.

Loving, leaving and finding the Church is the title of one of the best spiritual books I've read in my life.

I love this book, because it has reminded me that faith is a journey. I'm a bit of a perfectionist, so I would like to get everything tight from the very beginning. But it's not like that with faith. We're only people, and, although I have some friends who are truly holy and it sometimes feels like they've nailed it already at the age of 20-something, I need time to figure things out. And it frustrates me, because I would like to just nail here. Here and now. But it's not possible.

"Baptism reminds us that there's no ladder to holiness to climb, no self-improvement plan to follow. It's just death and resurrection, over and over again, day after day as God reaches down into our deepest graves and with the same power that raise Jesus from the dead wrests us from our pride, our apathy, our fear, our prejudice, our anger, our hurt, and our despair.

This is the passage from the book that touched me the most:

"There are recovery programs for people grieving the loss of a parent, sibling, ot spouse. You can buy books on how to cope with the death of a beloved pet or work through anguish of miscarriage. We speak openly with one another about the bereavement that can accompany a layoff, a move, a diagnosis or a dream deferred. But no one really teaches you hot to grieve the loss of your faith. You're on your own for that."

Rachel talks about Sunday mornings, when she went to church, as being one of the most lonely times during the week. And I can relate to that. I have more questions than I've received answers. I'm somewhat between leaving and finding now. It feels like I've never truly got lost anywhere. I know where I am.

The Island, as lovely as it is, leaves me spiritually starving. The masses are only in the morning, and I struggle to get to them. There are no groups for young adults here to share faith, meals and conversations. The parishioners are lovely, but they are all in the autumn of their lives and I can't relate to them. There are no events like Nightfever here, music during services is rubbish and I can't understand the priest because of his accent. It is not a happy places for me. Feels like 40 days in the desert. Only that there's been far more of those days than 40. We're going into a second hundred now. Not a happy place.

What I really need now is a kiss of God on my bruises. Not a grand reopening of my faith. Although I would love to be burning for Jesus again, a little nudge and and a warm touch would be enough for the time being. And then I could try building up the fruits of the Spirit:  love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.