There are many things about church that do not appeal to me. My lazy Sunday mornings don’t agree with it, my aversion to being touched does not love the hugs, my introverted self collapses within the crowds, and my patience cringes with the milling about and chitchat.
But one of the many qualities of church that keeps me coming back, is the weekly inspiration. One of the perks of being a part of a church that progresses, values arts, and aims towards understanding and connecting across the human struggle, is that my Sunday mornings are characterized by new music, new aesthetics, new challenges to my theoretical conceptualizations.
Like this video- and how on Sunday, we talked about the parallel of a mother’s love for her son, to how we can embrace and wrap our winter hands around this baby born in Bethleham- a feeling embodied in the tenderness of this mother singing a lullaby for her son.
The church I attend draws these connections and plays these videos. And I look upon it, and I think all week about it, and I am glad.
