I came home from church today feeling overwhelmed. I had difficulty talking when Nguyen asked how things went at an after-church meeting.
It felt like too much had gone on in too short a time.
First, before the service, an intense conversation with one of the Sunday School teachers. It was one of those "lets find a private place" kind of conversations which sometimes leave me feeling drained.
Then the service itself.
I still cannot look at a shrouded cross without feeling, I don't know, sick in my heart. Like I want to get on my knees, or lie flat out on the floor and just be in the joy and pain of what is coming. Holy Week is such an intense time.
The parade with palms around the Nave was amazing. 225 people carrying palms, waving and singing, playing drums and other percussion instruments, countered by the choir who was singing an ancient Gregorian sounding hymn that has probably been sung on Palm Sunday for centuries. The crazy, joyful exuberance before the truth of it: Those same people who waved their palms and shouted 'hosanna' were calling for Jesus' execution just a few days later.
And it is us.
Later, having a conversation with a friend, he seemed deeply agitated. But it was that good kind of agitated. The Holy Spirit kicking your ass, making you feel like you can't contain yourself within your own skin, busting loose and don't know what to do with it kind of feeling. It is glorious and scary and amazing all at once because you know, don't you, that it is so unbelievably true and anyone who says it is just endorphins is full of shit. It is, in fact, the truest truth there is.
There, I said it.
I recognize that feeling. Maybe feel a little wistful, even, because it has been awhile since I felt like that. Good God Almighty it is amazing to be stuffed full of the Holy Spirit. And even when you catch a little of the overflow from someone else's busting open, it can leave you a little tired.
So I am tired.
Like I want to lay down in my Beloved's arms
and rest for awhile.