When we moved to Fort Walton Beach we quickly found a church to call “home.” The only negative about the church was that the pastor was a Crimson Tide fan.
We attended Sunday school and worship, and I joined the choir. But, after several months the grief I was carrying filled my bones with weariness. I dropped out of choir, walked my son to his Sunday school class, and I sat in my car until time for worship.
After several weeks the choir director "gently" confronted my lack of commitment. He was taken back when my explanation turned into sobs. I tried my best to describe my spiritual exhaustion but I quickly realized an explanation wasn't necessary. He simply responded, "I'm so sorry. I had no idea."
I’ll never forget the tension of the moment - judgment and grace, confession and forgiveness. He didn't know - because instead of sharing my grief I simply withdrew. Who knew how refreshing a box of Kleenex and a simply prayer could be!
My grief still lingered but I knew I had a church family to walk with me. And, I was reminded that Jesus was with me every step of the way.
This past Sunday we shared our disappointment in King Solomon. So much for the wisdom of Solomon!
And then again, I wonder what we might learn if we had the opportunity to hear his perspective? Let us never forget the power of a listening heart… and a box of Kleenex… and a prayer.