Boy Meets World At Heritage Field

Yesterday - like most of the Sundays in my twenty years, nine months, three weeks, and three days on this earth, - I went to church.
back story time
A few months ago I did this switcharoo thing for my "home church" that was crazier than watching the first and last episodes of "Boy Meets World" consecutively.  My "old" church was maybe 60 people on a good day.  They had a children's group and a teen-get-together every week.  Once a month there was a little worship/get together/hang out time for college-aged kids.  The teaching was phenomenal.
This church was about forty  minutes away from where I live.  Some Sundays I didn't bother going simply because of the drive.  It was taxing on my nerves and body and gas tank.
My friend Jordan knew about this, so he told me, "hey!  You should come to my church!  Here's a card, we have four service, just let me know which one you'll be at and I'll show you around!"
So I did...the second time he asked.  MONTHS after the initial invite.
That was in February, and since then this church really has become like home to me.  The people and the place and GOD.  It's like I was standing in Heritage Field and suddenly the stadium was back.  Not the brand new pretty stadium.  The stadium that we all knew and loved.  Familiar and kind and warm and crazy.  Good pizza.  Lots of shouting.  Root, root, root for the freaking Yankees because they're the home team.  That deal.  This church is so humongous that we have to have five services now to fit everyone.  We're looking for a second location (in the DC area if you know of a place!).  There are a bajillion things to get involved in every week.  Bible study groups, prayer groups, movie groups, roller coaster groups, running groups, EVERYTHING GROUPS.  Just to be around family all the time.  It's wonderful.
back to the present
So yesterday.  Yesterday Pastor Stine gave a message all about hearing the voice of God (which you can watch here.  Eventually.  When they get it online someday).  There was, of course, the usual, "be still and know that I am God", that we always hear, but Pastor Stine gave us a few more pieces of advice.  There was one I took to heart more than the rest - journal.
His advice?  Write out your prayers to God, and then write out what you believe his response is.  Last night I did this and filled up page after page of words that I didn't even know were in me.  I used to journal all the time, but it's definitely been a while.  Life gets in the way.  It was nice.  When I went back to read everything that I had written, my requests didn't take me by surprise.  Whiny and human and impulsive.  What I was shocked by was what I wrote in response - or rather, what I believe that God wrote through me.  There were passages from the Bible in there that I don't remember ever in my life memorizing.  Reminders of his love and faithfulness.  God is all that we need, and it's a wonderful thing to remember.  Journaling is a wonderful way to remember.

So that's what I have to say tonight.

Blessings

I don't like when people say things like, “God is going to bless you so much for doing that!”.

I mean...how would they know what the heck God is going to bless someone for?!?!

The way I think about “God's blessings” is that if the Big Man upstairs wants to bless me, he will. When people say thing like that, I feel like I'm only participating in whatever activity in order to get “God's blessing”. Sometimes I feel that whoever is telling me this only does anything good because they feel the need for a blessing.

I mean, we've all got needs. Know how to fulfill them?? Go ahead! Get God's blessing!

But no. Really. Last night I sat with the older lady and talked to her because she looked lonely. Then I wanted out really badly when she told me her life story. There was no “servant's heart” there, just this 20 year old girl who really wanted to go hang out with the friends that kept on walking by. I wish I had wanted to be there, but the reality is that I didn't want to. Fifteen minutes in I wished I hadn't sat down. An hour in I considered faking a phone call. When the lights blinked to tell us to get the heck outta the building I was ecstatic...until she kept talking.

Even if God did want to bless me for sitting and letting a lady - whose name I didn't know until 45 minutes in - talk to me, I don't think I could accept that blessing. If the servant's heart and attitude had been there then sure. I'd accept. I'd have no issue. But there was no heart for the conversation. There was no wanting to be there.

So no. No blessing.