GodSpace by Keri Wyatt Kent

Author:Keri Wyatt Kent [KENT, KERI WYATT]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Religion / Christian Rituals & Practice / General, Religion / Christian Life / Inspirational
Publisher: FaithWords
Published: 2017-09-05T00:00:00+00:00

Paying Attention

A few years ago, I wrote this about a night at church when God gently upended my definition of worship:

I slip into the aisle, too late realizing that the man and woman at the end of the row, whom I must step over awkwardly, are huddled in a miserable side-by-side embrace. Her head is bowed, obviously with grief. We slide past them to the empty seats, then begin to sing. It’s hard for me to get into it; I almost didn’t want to come to church tonight. I’m mad at Scot about something, I can’t remember what, exactly.

I sing mechanically. The woman now to our right continues to cry, her head down, the man beside her continues with his arm protectively around her. It’s a little annoying. She’s distracting.

A few moments later, it dawns on me: maybe I’m not just here for me, tonight. I wonder what would happen if I let go of my annoyance, and just prayed for this woman. Since that’s not something I would typically come up with on my own, I decide that might be God, asking me to make some space.

I would like to hang on to my annoyance, my own stuff. Reluctantly at first, I pay attention to God’s whispers, and start to pray for the crying woman. I pray that the singing around her will soothe her soul, that God will heal her grief. I wonder what she’s lost; I can tell it’s that kind of grief.

After a while, the woman in front of this girl turns to her and hands her an entire packet of tissues. She takes them wordlessly, nods her thanks. Occasionally she is able to look up, her face swollen and blotched ruddy.

I continue to pray for her, and to listen to God. After a half hour of singing, the discipline of worship is doing its work in my heart, softening it, filling me. I try to forgive Scot, ask for God’s help in our marriage, our life. During one song where we are seated, singing, I’m moved to stand and lift my arms. My eyes shut, I sing, pray, plead with God to intervene in my own private troubles.

Suddenly I feel an arm around me and the woman from the end of the aisle is crying on my shoulder, sobbing. I sing over her “nothing is impossible with God” and hold her. I am amazed at this—but I go with it, because I think I have just stumbled into a God space. I end up standing in front of my husband, who is seated, and likely dumbfounded.

He moves over so that I can stand next to the woman. As the worship continues around us, I pray out loud, into the woman’s ear that she would be healed of whatever pain she’s going through. Soon, out pours a story of a jerk of a boyfriend who kicked her out of his car 25 miles from home. She’s intent on telling me her story, even as the music wafts around us.

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