The Power of a Church Greeter.
I don’t know why I’m here. I’m sitting in my car, foot firmly planted on the brake, staring through the windshield, and my mind is racing.
My kids, my job, my finances, my list of things I’ve got to get done, my spouse, my failures with my kids, with my spouse and with myself.
I’m a wreck.
I can’t deal with another problem, another issue, another anything.
And yet, here I am sitting in my car, staring through the windshield seeing nothing but failure. My failure.
My eyes don’t see a thing, but my brain is racing through the moments of my less-than-perfect behavior, thoughts, emotions, reactions, expectations, whatever.
Over and over. Non-stop. Showing me my failures magnified in High Def. Over. And. Over.
And the narrative, perfectly overdubbed, tells me just how much I’ve failed, how many times, the damage I’ve done, the value that I don’t have.
I don’t know if I can let go of the steering wheel. My knuckles are white, my muscles are so tight that I don’t know if I can even pry my fingers off of the wheel.
With all my failures flashing in my mind’s eye and deafening me with thunderous accusations, I manage to turn my head and look out of the side window and see … a smiling face, a look of love for me, a look that says ‘I’m right there with you’, and, ‘Come join me and lets share our load together’.
My fingers slowly unlock from the wheel and I half think about turning for home. But I don’t leave. I put the car in Park, unfasten my seat belt, turn off the ignition and leave the car. I head toward the door, the smile, the solace I hope to find, and forgiveness.
I am so far gone today that I can’t even put on my ‘church face’. But I am greeted and hugged at the door and the smile pulls some of the weight from my soul.
God seems to speak to me here through songs and scripture, but mostly through knowing that just about everyone here has, at some point, wondered why they were here.
Peace soaks into my soul. My load seems less, my mind has slowed, the accusations have quieted.
I know why I am here.