Would God Ever Say, "I Told You So"?

I don't know the exact date of the last time I had communion. For some reason, there are other dates popping in my head like the date of my last day as a theology student... the date that I got a phone call from the other side of the country that snapped me back into reality... the date that I packed up and drove 45 hours back "home" to face that reality... and even the date that I met with a bishop back home who tried her best to help me back on the path of the straight and narrow.

I do know that somewhere following all of these dates, I essentially tried to cut my losses and walk away from the church all together. I had reached a point of spiritual exhaustion. Being realistic, 5 years ago, I was a happy, church going youth who believed that nothing was more precious than my relationship with God. In those 5 short years, I went from being a boisterous youth minister responsible for getting teenagers excited to live a life of faith to deciding that what I was hearing in my heart were the whispers of the Holy Spirit calling me elsewhere. Packing up, I pronounced my faith in a different denomination - putting myself at odds with my cradle faith and the family that came with it. Within the following three years, I would not only convince myself that I was called to some form of servant ministry, but anyone I met. Literally. Three separate interviewing committees, new friends, and national contacts all were equally on board with the idea that I was "called to serve" as I was. It's no surprise that when things blew up, I personally decided that I was better off without any of it.

Now... I'm not so sure that I was right.

I was in the process of closing up the grand piano, tidying up the sheet music I had acquired, and fixing the piano bench when a man from choir approached me.

"We never know what to do with you and Communion"

"Um... pardon me?"

"Well, you don't go up to the altar to receive communion with the rest of the musicians, but you also don't take communion with the choir when we all receive. We never really know what do with you during communion"

"Oh. I see. Well, it's not a big deal. But thank you for thinking of me!"

"Would you like us to bring back a host for you?"

"No thank you."

"Why do you play in a church if you don't take communion... are you baptized?"

"Yes, I have completed all my sacraments, some more frequently than others. I do not take communion because I am at a weird place in my journey right now." (Which is easier to explain than trying to explain the process of what I would need to do to participate in the Eucharistic feast)

"My wife and I will pray for you"

I wanted to stop him and clarify that there are more important things to pray for, but he was gone. I wanted to tell him that I am just there for the musical outlet... I can survive without communion... really and truly...

On the drive home, I opted for silence. Just like the feeling that overcomes a composer when there is a song to be written, music streamed from somewhere deep within. The tune sounded familiar to me, but the words and context just wouldn't come. Once I got home, still puzzled, I pulled out my guitar and began trying to figure out what this song that I kept hearing was. About three strums in, I broke into tears.

It was a song that I was asked to sing at the Cathedral in town because it spoke about the woman at the well (which were those Sunday's readings). I don't remember whether we did the music for the whole service, or just that song, but I was on the guitar, there was someone else singing, and we had a violinist as well. The song was not really relevant to me back then... but now... sitting on the couch in tears... I get it. (Nothing slow 'bout me, I promise!)

It is a song sung by country artist, Martina McBride and it's called "Reluctant Daughter"

Jesus, tell my Father I wanna be his child again

Tell him, what my name is, incase he's forgotten.

Tell him I'm the woman at the well, drawing water

And I'm sorry if I've been his reluctant daughter.

Jesus, tell my angels to keep me in their prayers

Remind them how I need

To feel them everywhere

Tell 'em I'm ready to drink the living water

I don't want my angels to think I'm his reluctant daughter.

Jesus, tell my Father I wanna come to heaven

Tell him, to shout my name out

So I won't be forgotten.

I cannot make any promises for the date that I will kneel in prayer and sing this song upwards, nor can I know where that will be, with whom, and what will precipitate from doing so. I cannot know whether I will hear the whisper of "I told you so", nor can I assume that singing it will be effortless. However, I will simply continue to trust in what I do know... that reluctant or not, I have most definitely not been forgotten yet. Apparently I just needed the reminder.