I am two parts. Body and spirit.

Part one does what’s normal, what it knows is expected. The spirit protests, it rears its head and hardens. It lies, allowing the body to meet expectations, the spirit plays opossum.

When they are linear, cohesive, I am my best self, I am honest and whole. I feel not only are my two parts aligned but they are also aligned with God.

Today, I sit in Church, my body I mean. My spirit admits in raw honesty, “I don’t want to be here.”

My body has been doing what it’s told for so long, ignoring the whispers of the spirit, that it is not easy to start listening. It is not easy to let my spirit move with my body. What if I could quit doing the expected and begin living honestly— what if I gave my spirit over as Jesus did? “Father, to you I commit my spirit.”

Would my life look a little different?


My mind turned this “two parts” idea for half of the service yesterday. I sat in a school gym, pretending to listen to a pastor teach on Psalm 145.

Instead of taking notes, I wrote this:

God, I want to praise you but I don’t know you like I so ignorantly thought I did. Open, rip open my spirit, teach me to humbly learn who you are papa. How you interact with the world. Really and truly.

Afterward, I closed my journal and let my body follow the crowd, and rise to sing a song called “How He Loves”

I wept, silently. I crossed my arms and held my middle tightly. Attempting to protect my spirit from being ripped open like I asked. I ached, and I let go. I let my spirit be ripped to shreds, and I let mascara form little maps down my face.

This southern phrase kept rolling through my head,

God is doing a mighty work in you chil’

Indeed God is.

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