Congregation: (n) a group of people assembled for religious worship

Walking in the door, I’m uncertain.

Everyone is dressed nicely, but seem to be caught up in a quiet spirit–a somber profile.

I glance into the room, where everyone is beginning to gather, and notice that it is illuminated, but with a subdued glimmer.

I’m not sure what to do. I do not know who I am in this place. Moments before, I was in my car with all my stuff around me–familiar parts of my existence. Now I am in an unusual space with an unusual sensation, unusually uncomfortable.

Why have I come?

Better question: what is it I need?

I desperately need to be bolstered. Yes–there’s the word–uplifted. Made to believe that the faith I place in myself, my family and the world around me is justified.

What else? I could use some joy.

I could certainly benefit from appreciation.

I wouldn’t be averse to a hug, as long as it was accompanied with a warm welcoming.

Though I believe in God, I don’t exactly know what He wants from me. I have concluded that He needs my passions placed in appropriate directions, and for me to do my best to treat my neighbor as myself.

Does He demand my praise? Interesting.

It is so quiet I can hear myself think. That’s not good. I spend too much time mulling things over in my brain.

I need to escape–break out of the jailhouse of my own imprisoned opinions.

I need to hear music that stirs me.

I need to hear words that encourage me.

I need to be around people who are invigorated by being around each other.

I have stepped into a room which has been sanctified for worship.

I am uncomfortable.

I am part of a congregation.

I’ve lost myself.

Published by Jonathan Cring