Hugs to soften a hardened heart

I went to church Sunday morning with a chip on my shoulder. I'm angry. I didn't want to hide it and really didn't hide it.

I wanted to be mad. I was hurt and I wanted to hold onto that as a reminder that people are no good. I wanted to to protect my heart against any more hurt by holding onto the idea that church is bad and Christians are mean people.

These days, I naturally smile. A lot. I made sure there was no smile and tried to make myself unapproachable. I didn't need anyone to be nice, I just wanted to be mad.

Then an elderly lady from Wednesday bible study came over, talked to me while rubbing my shoulder and and holding my hand.

Then more friends came to me during the time of greeting, standing with open arms and ready for a hug.

How could I not want to be with these people? How could I not want these loving people surrounding me? Was my hurt and anger really woth missing out on all this love?

One of the things that we discussed this afternoon was that if we are going to stay at this church, then I probably need to deal with these feelings. Otherwise, we aren't going to survive there.

But still, confrontation is hard. It's never easy to tell someone they hurt you. In fact, the pastor said something today that resonated with me and in this situation. He was talking about the lady at the well. She was cynical and in disbelief. She gad a past of being mistreated and used. She believed her reality, which was that she wasn't worth the time.

That's my default. When someone hurts me, I quickly revert back to that little girl thinking. I'm not worth anybody's time. It's ok for people to be mean or mistreat me because I'm used to it. I'm fat and ugly and people will always look at me as though I am beneath them.

That's where I go, right or wrong. Belittling myself to the point of locking away the hurt because I'm of no value.

Still, it might be easier to slowly slip away from the church than to talk with someone about being hurt, especially when you are certain they don't care.

We hosted our small group Sunday night. It was a mixed bag. They are all great people, very caring and loving. Yet, I wrestled with the question of the church. Again, I was fairly certain this would be a first and last.

We had a great time. Good conversation. As everyone was leaving, something happened. One by one, the members started hugging me before they left. Not everyone, but a lot. Kind words were spoken and a genuine anticipation for the next time we could all gather together.

Can I just say right now, my heart melted. I could feel the hardness slipping away and the feeling of being loved and a part of something bigger slipping in.

It wasn't what I wanted. I wanted easy. But these people. I am finding myself being brought into their family. And I like it.

We've never experienced church the way these people do church. They are exactly how they present themselves. This congregation is a family. Maybe it's easier in smaller churches. I'm not saying they are perfect. They are just perfectly themselves.

So with my convicted prideful heart, I'm sure I'll have to move past the little girl way of thinking and face this issue. Cause I think what sits on the other side of this bump in the road might be worth it.