I sing most Sundays at the Washington National Cathedral. It’s a privilege and a pleasure to sing in such a beautiful space, and participate in their thoughtful, joyous, and welcoming worship. I access my faith through singing, and participating in the choir allows me to celebrate both my love of choral performance and my devotion to God.
But if I’m honest my devotion has been troubled lately. It’s not a crisis of faith, per se. My faith as it is remains steadfast. But my biggest sin has always been worry, and I have had plenty to worry about lately. My health, my future, death, what I want out of my life, big existential questions, all worry, worry, worry. But in my faith tradition there is an alternative to worry: prayer. And it’s been said that if you’re going to pray and give your worries to God, then it makes no sense to continue to worry about it yourself.
You can imagine that I’m not exactly comfortable with this arrangement. I mean, I trust the Big Guy, and all, but, you know…..I like to have control.
Except I don’t have control, and I obviously don’t trust the Big Guy. If I did, this wouldn’t be a thing.
So in service today, when I was singing “ponder anew what the almighty can do,” I thought, well, maybe I should. Because this worrying isn’t working out, and with a possible new diagnosis of shingles because my immune system is so compromised, I’ve about reached my fucking breaking point. I thought I was there before, but it turns out there are new limits.
But that’s also a message of my faith, in the breaking of the bread, the body of Christ: what happens after the breaking point. What happens after your body is broken, after your blood is spilt. What happens after you’ve tried everything a human being can try.
There’s a reason you pray on your knees. I’ve been down here for a while, I might as well do something productive with the time. Radical trust is my new prescription.