Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Liturgy of Healing

I sat there with a lump in my throat. Entropy rising in my soul in the ache of self loathing. It happened again. How could it happen again?

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.

She sits there in our bed; tears stream down her face as she tries to muffle quiet sobs. She doesn't want me to hate myself, she doesn't want me to feel shame, so she hides her scars to protect me. She can no longer hide what has been building up for a long time. It is a familiar blur of tears, lowered heads, avoiding eye contact and awkward silence. 

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.

A reminder that we had healed so much, but there was more healing needed. We fall asleep in our bed, neither of us wishing to continue the conversation. We wake up, and decide to make the best of our night. "Sing Street" is playing at Cinemark. A cute little indie movie about Irish teens starting a band to impress a girl with a 97%  score on Rotten Tomatoes; it could work.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.

As we get ready to head to the movie I repeat the ancient prayer over and over in my head. We needed healing. We needed hope. We needed mercy. We get to the mall and I'm immediately put at ease by the smell of the popcorn running through the building. I love the smell of popcorn; a smell that calls back to the simpler time of youth and watching Survivor on TV every Thursday with mom while dad made stove top popcorn in the Kitchen. We were together. We were happy. We were family.

Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me.

We sit down in the movie theater, only two other people in the whole auditorium. The movie starts, and instantly we know this is the movie we were looking for. This was the movie we needed. Over the next two hours we laugh, tear up and hum along with catchy songs. We did this together, at the same time, in the same moments. The theater was our cathedral. A refuge in the type of rough night all husbands and wives are familiar with. We were united. It was hope. It was healing. It was mercy.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.

The night was a reminder of why I love movies. The world outside the theater can be chaos, entropy, fear. For those two hours, whatever separates you is gone, and you are united in a beautiful moment in time, suspended in healing and unity. The church used to be known for it's art. Art that spoke honestly to the brokenness of the human condition. Art that celebrated a God who could heal his people. We facilitate His liturgy of healing with our art.

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of god, thank you for your mercy.

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