Battery Life for the Journey

I have something on my mind. I don't know how it's going to look written out in Times New Roman (or whatever font this is, for that matter), but you win some you lose some I suppose! So here goes; I'm sick of going to mass and adoration and seeing heaps and heaps of people who so seem to have got it together. There, I said it. Maybe it's pride, envy, some other deadly sin that I don't know of, but it irks me like nobody's business.

I think Abigail Van Buren said it better than I ever could:

"The church is a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints." Bam. 

Bllleeeeeeerggggghhh

What I want to see more of are the strugglers, stragglers, and confused. The WHAT IS THE MEANING OF LIFE-ers and the Where do I go from here-ers. I want to see people groveling on their hands and knees, dragging themselves on their stomachs to the front steps of the church as if their very lives depended on it. As if they were recently lost in the desert for a month, dying of thirst and covered in festering sun blisters, and the church had a big flashing sign that read: COMPLIMENTARY FRESH WATER & ALOE VERA OINTMENT! Now that's what I'm talking about. 

This isn't to say that my dear brothers and sisters who are in mass every Sunday or faithfully skipping into mass as a part of their daily routine aren't struggling through life. The devout and consistent Christian is a weary traveler too. But maybe the difference between the weary Christians and the rest of the whole wide weary world is that we Jesus-Freaks just can't handle the desert. Not alone, at least. We thirst, and the water among the miles of sand is scarce and fleeting, quick to evaporate into vapor. We can't stay in the desert for too long, we are so weak and we need our strength. There are people out in the desert both crying for help and clinging to the sand, scoffing at those who try to save them from their so called "home". We can't just leave them there, and we certainly cannot deny them our life-giving water. To put it into modern language; We are sad, cracked, broken little ipods and the Church is our IHome, charging us up with vitality! And battery life! And Jesus! Amen! 

So I ask this, When is the last time you met somebody that really needs a home? A good home-cooked meal? Not just in a literal sense, but in a good cold water, aloe vera ointment, and IHomes kind of way! Point to the neighborhood church, invite them along, say a prayer for them, tell them how important they are to you. Christ can use us as water for the journey to those around us in many ways. In my experience, I've never physically stumbled into a church, limping in from the battlefield that lies outside. But! I do frequently, (as in every single day), sigh deeply as I sink back into the pew, knowing that I get my steak and potatoes, my daily bread, my daily Jesus.