When Amen Feels Like Lying
When Amen Feels Like Lying A devotion for the dry places I sat in the pew again. Same row. Same stain on the hymnbook page. Same scratch on the floor where someone's heel dug in. A wedding ring? A nervous foot? Who knows. The worship team sang about a fire. Woman two rows up? Crying. Real tears. The kind that leave salt tracks. Me? Nothing. Not sad. Not angry. Just... nothing. Like a TV channel went off air at 3 AM. Snow. Static. No one home. My fire went out three months ago. Or maybe last year. You know how it is. Days blur when you're just going through the motions of a faith that used to breathe but now just... sits there. On the couch. In its underwear. Eating cold pizza. Sorry. Is that too honest? Too bad. Prayer bounces off the ceiling now. Like a rubber ball thrown at a wall by a bored kid. Thwack. Thud. Thwack. Thud. Scripture reads like a grocery list. Milk. Eggs. Love your neighbor. Bread. Don't commit adultery. Dish soap. Everyone else has tears. Raised hands....