The Heart of the Matter

Last Sunday, I cried at church. Because I was tired. And feeling weepy. And the stars aligned just right. And I was in despair over two Sundays in a row of a ready and willing teacher (yours truly) and no vessels to fill. And I was especially upset that the little girl whose baptism moved me to tears the Sunday after Easter has not been back to Sunday school since the day she expressed an interest in being baptized. (Are her guardians under the impression that since Jesus is clearly at work in her little heart that the need for Sunday school has come and gone?) And someone asked me how I was doing, and I burst into tears before I had a chance to answer him good.

Thankfully, my blubbery mess of self listened to the sermon this morning. It was good for my heart to hear. Jim's sermon began with St. Anselm, who said, "I believe so that I may understand." We can't really hope to understand God, said Anselm, unless we choose first to believe in Him. The Gospel of John, continued Jim, goes back one step further, proposing we cannot believe in God unless we first love Him.

Enter the heart.

It's a tricky thing, the heart, and one I think tends to get a raw deal in AmeriChristian culture. The Bible does, you know, warn us several times not to trust our hearts. A popular saying is that we must lead our hearts rather than follow them. A good word, indeed. But I think AmeriChristians spend so much time poo-pooing our hearts that we sometimes completely ignore the hearts our Creator gave us. God didn't flip on my Mommy-switch by allowing me to become pregnant with and then lose Orison for nothing. He wanted to get through to my heart, to reach a depth of relationship with me He didn't have before. And He used such an unfortunate and deeply difficult situation to do so.

But alas, that's not where Jim's sermon ended this morning. Our little parish has been in dire financial straights of late. Giving is down, and needs are still apparent. So the point of the sermon was that whether or not our congregation chooses to give more is a matter of heart. Either we love SMAA and the work God's doing there enough to give so that it can continue. Or we don't.

I hope we do. I pray we do. But I also realize the lack of giving and the small roster of members we have are at least in part because of this guy and the subsequent mass exodus away from churches who didn't immediately join the AAC.

This isn't the post wherein I'll choose to share my views on the rightness or wrongness of people who live openly homosexual lifestyles having positions of authority within the church. But it is the post wherein I'll choose to share that I love St. Mike's. It's like a family to me. And - at the moment - what happens in New Hampshire has no bearing on my spiritual life at St. Mike's. And it saddens me deeply that it distracts some fellow church-goers enough not to give to their church who needs them.

Sigh.

So there it is, folks. I've been sitting on these thoughts for the better part of two weeks. And now I know why. Miraculously, I was able to get through this post without crying and thereby alarming an unsuspecting husband. And speaking of hearts, if you haven't given yours to Jesus, think seriously about doing so. I guarantee you won't regret it.

(I had to add that part, y'all. I grew up Baptist, donchaknow?)