This is for the ones who respond in the quiet, this is for the ones who will know what they think next week, after coffee and conversation and changing their mind, a few times.
Yes this is for the ones who will respond later, with the help of some other voices and some reading and journaling and listening again on-line.
This is for the ones who have epiphanies in the shower, or driving to work, the ones who will still be thinking about it wide-eyed in the darkness in bed.
This is for the ones who almost didn’t make it, for whom there is a miracle already, that their bum is still on the pew… the ones slowly thawing week after week, the ones learning the unforced rhythms of grace, the ones letting go of baggage piece by piece, determined and deliberate not to pick up more… which is why they are the ones who need time and space.
This is for the ones who need to stay away from Twitter, the ones learning not to make assumptions, the ones learning to recognise their own dramatic Overreact.
This is for the introverts and disillusioned extroverts, this if for the ones laying their perfectionism and people-pleasing and try-hard-tendencies on the altar, before they respond to anything else… the ones who responded too many times before.
This is for the ones who no longer kneel at the front, but who pray in the bath. This is for the ones with crumpled response cards, who can’t find a box to tick. This is for the ones who praise with their arms
outstretched folded and their hands lifted high shoved in pockets.
This is an altar to honour your softening cynicism, your deep breaths, your showing-up. This is an altar to mark the place you are starting to find for yourself. This is an altar that sees your right foot starting to tap, your fists uncurl.
Yes this is an altar of space and time and room for you. It’s a place to rest, or escape. It’s a conversation that goes late into the night. It’s a meal around the kitchen table.
This is a call for story, a call for those in the middle, a call for minds not yet made up and wounds not yet healed. This is a call for sharp edges and fears that recur and doubts that linger.
This is a call to share and bear witness and wrestle, together.
This is a call for the ones who feel like they’re the only ones, you’re not.
This is an altar of faith and hope. This altar lets you walk away. This call goes with you.
This altar waits.