The War Within

I nearly went to church today.

This post probably belongs on my other blog (the immigration story blog) but I'm not ready to be that exposed to any of the few family or friends back in the old country who might chance to read it. And this blog is the one I've used for more personal posts - the deeper things.

Where to start? It's Sunday morning in misty, rainy, beautiful Wellington. I spent a lot of time yesterday exploring websites related to churches in the city and found several that looked interesting - communities that claimed openeness and inclusivity and acceptance as part of their credo. I picked out the one that has fascinated me since we arrived here - our first hotel was directly opposite it and it's a gorgeous old church with a tall spire and stained glass windows.





But why could I possibly be wanting to go to church again, after all these months and years of agonizing and grieving and turmoil over issues of faith and belief and God? Looking back on my life, I recognize the psychological pattern - when I reach an emotional place where I'm feeling very isolated and alone, where I'm struggling with anxiety and depression, where I'm yearning to be accepted, to belong, to be part of a community again, I turn to religion or church - and by default, to God. Why? The reason is probably two-fold.

As a child, the community I knew best was the church community - so by default, when the need to belong somewhere comes up again, I'm emotionally drawn to 'church' as a concept. Secondly, although I call myself agnostic these days, I've always had a deep pull towards the mystical - to whatever lies beyond my ability to reason and think and dissect. To digress: if I ever found a community where the two (intellect and mysticism) could be mixed in a way that satisfied, I'd join in a heart beat!

However, this morning I woke up and thought about the service I'd semi-planned on attending - the 10am Sung Eucharist. I'm drawn by the idea of song and liturgy and ritual, but there is simply no way I can imagine actually taking communion with any degree of honesty any more. I could not eat bread and drink wine and offer prayers of thanks to God for 'saving' my soul by sending Jesus to die in my place, thus ensuring my place in Heaven one day. I don't believe any of that any more. I still cannot articulate any of my beliefs with any degree of certainty, so I remain a mystically-inclined agnostic for now.

So I didn't go to church today. I'd still like to visit St Peters, though. I'd like to sit in the quiet of the sanctuary and just be. Breathe. Wait. Listen. And see what happens. Who knows, I might yet touch 'God' somewhere along the way ...